Lights, Camera, Action!
by ChelsieSouloftheAbbey
Summary: Modern AU. Elsie Hughes is exec producer for "The Granthams," a docudrama being filmed by Crawley Film Productions. Enter one old flame, Charles Carson, plus someone hell-bent on ruining the project ... what could possibly go wrong? Set in the glitz of Hollywood with some filming in Toronto and London. Rated T but a couple M chapters along the way. Chelsie fic w/many DA faves.
1. Charles Arrives

**A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm back with a new modern AU, which is almost already fully written - a new thing for me, to have it all done ahead and not be only one chapter ahead of you all - and therefore should be updated fairly regularly. It'll be approximately 28-30 chapters in length, so feel free to give it a follow if you like it.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I know nothing really about the film industry. If you do, please read with a willing suspension of disbelief. :)**

 **BIG HUGS for chelsie fan, who has very patiently (for months) beta'd this story, offering both suggestions for grammar and corrections and also her highly-valued opinion about the plot lines themselves. And this story would never have happened had the idea not come from a conversation with the lovely susiestarbux, reviewer extraordinaire and knower of many things LA. Thank you, thank you, thank you for allowing me to run with this. xxx**

 **Many characters appear, but this will primarily be a Chelsie fic.**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

 _ **Thursday, 18 August**_

Tom Branson reached to open the door of the limo, extending a hand to Elsie to help her out of the back seat.

"Here we are, Ms. Hughes," he smiled, tipping his hat.

"Tom, if you're going to be my new assistant _and_ chauffeur, then we can't have me feeling my age every time we're together. I've told you a million times, it's just Elsie."

Tom looked behind her and murmured, "Not when Old Lady Crawley is around."

Elsie closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "She's right behind me, isn't she?" she whispered.

"Just across the street, waiting for the light to cross," he confirmed.

"She's early. Although I suppose I can't be surprised."

Tom chuckled, then moved around her to close the limo door.

"Pick you up in an hour?"

"If not sooner." She smiled at him and tightened her grip on the briefcase, then glanced back at the limo. "And you'll need to restock the Scotch, too. I feel like I'm going to need it after _this_ meeting."

"No idea what Robert has planned?"

"Not a clue - and that scares the shit out of me."

"Ah, you'll be fine. He's afraid of you, I think."

"Oh, please. He's not afraid of anyone except his mother. I've known the man for ages, Tom; he's thoughtful to his core, but he's not the best person when it comes to being in charge of … well, _anything_ really."

With a tip of his hat and a wink, Tom left her on the sidewalk as he got back behind the wheel and pulled the car away from the curb.

Elsie took another deep, steadying breath as she examined the scene before her.

People were milling _everywhere,_ and yet there was a steady purposefulness to everyone that she appreciated. She heard a bicycle bell and stepped to the side as a page zoomed by; two staffers greeted her, and she smiled as she asked about this one's new baby, that one's upcoming wedding. There was music emanating from the long wall behind the tree-lined street, and a small bus was filling the space just vacated by the limo, with a trio of three beautiful blond children climbing in, being wrangled by a woman who must be their mother.

The sound of Violet's footsteps clicked on the concrete soon enough, and Elsie straightened her already perfect posture and turned to face her.

"Mrs. Crawley, it's a pleasure."

"I doubt that," Violet laughed. "But it's a necessity. Robert has lost complete control over this entire project."

Violet stared at Elsie with beady eyes underneath arched eyebrows, making the younger woman slightly uncomfortable. "Shall we walk in, Ms. Hughes, or just stand here and hope they'll hold this meeting on the walkway?"

Elsie tilted her head, smirking at Violet's spunk. In another world, she thought they might have gotten on famously as friends.

As they turn to walk through the massive, heavily guarded gate, Elsie's eyes glanced upward at the sign above it all:

 _ **Crawley Film Productions**_

She drew her lip underneath her teeth as she passed through the entryway and nodded a greeting at the afternoon guard, feeling every single time she walked behind the studio wall like that young, wet-behind-the-ears assistant producer she used to be, as though it were her very first day all over again. Elsie knew she was a strong woman and she was confident in her work, but walking through that door was her constant reminder of from where - and how far - she's come.

Violet was waiting by the elevator and Elsie joined her inside for the brief trip to the twenty-first floor.

"It's good to see you here," Elsie admitted. "I don't mind telling you that I have been a bit worried."

"As you should be, in your shoes," Violet told her. "I've no idea what the hell he's been thinking. I know I promised that this could be Robert's project and his alone, but my word!"

"It's the cast," Elsie replied. "With the exception of Cora and one or two others, they all need to be scrapped. And I'm sorry, but Harold has done nothing to stop it, either. As director -"

"Yes," Violet said, cutting her off as the door opens, "Well, I've made some progress in the cast department."

"Oh?" Elsie bristled. "And why, may I ask, am I only hearing about this now? Who is it, then?"

Violet stopped and turned to look at Elsie, but the producer couldn't read her expression. "You'll see soon enough, I suppose."

Elsie followed Violet through and noticed that they were some of the last to arrive; Robert Crawley, John Bates, and Phyllis Baxter were already seated by Robert's end of the table. Elsie was a bit surprised to see Thomas Barrow there, too, and she noted the smarmy look on his face as he saw her process his presence in the seat by Robert's right hand.

Violet took the chair directly opposite her son, a gesture which sent a jolt of electricity through the air; it was a challenge, a battle for control, and went disregarded by no one.

Elsie sat beside Phyllis, greeting her politely and glancing at Phyllis's iPad, noticing she'd written nothing yet and reassuring herself they'd not arrived too late. Phyllis was Robert's secretary, and Elsie liked her quite a bit - perhaps more than half the people working at CFP, if she were honest.

Elsie noted the two remaining empty chairs, wondering whom they were waiting for. She reached for the pitcher of water in front of her and poured a glass for herself and one for Violet, when suddenly Robert's phone buzzed on the table, startling them all.

He checked it and scrolled down, a small frown upon his face.

"They're almost here," he announced. "We may as well get started, then, and they can catch up."

"She needs to learn to be on time," Violet muttered.

"All right," Robert began carefully. "I think it's clear to everyone here that we've run into a few snags before even hitting the ground running with the read-throughs. We're meeting here today to pool our ideas and see if we can save this project before it's too late."

He looked carefully at everyone seated at the table.

"Every one of you sitting here is a valuable resource to this company. I like to think of us as a family; to that end, I've made a few staffing changes, effective immediately."

Elsie raised an eyebrow, but she kept her peace.

"Thomas is taking over as director of the project," Robert declared. He looked over at Elsie, whose eyes had grown imperceptibly wider; she'd recommended Thomas Barrow initially, but she felt as though that request had gone completely ignored by Robert, who'd caved to the pressure from his brother-in-law, Harold Levinson.

 _Evidently, Robert has changed his mind. Interesting._

"You'll meet weekly and report to me on your progress, Elsie. Is that acceptable?"

"Of course," she agreed, smiling briefly at Robert. "You know me; I can't stand an atmosphere, and we've had quite an atmosphere around here lately. If you've let Harold go in favor of Thomas, I'm all for it."

Violet stiffened at the mention of Harold, the man they all knew usually meant well and yet could never manage to pull off any of his grandiose projects without a great deal of help; however, she managed to remain silent.

"Why, thank you, Mrs. Burns - oh, I'm sorry, _Ms. Hughes._ It has been a while, after all." Thomas's look was challenging as he threw the comment across the table, but Elsie simply rolled her eyes and turned her attentions back to Robert. She had always supported Thomas, but by God, his burning passion for gossip and needling his workmates was grating on the best of days.

"I've got the new contracts here, Robert," John was saying, and he slid a folder past Thomas and up to Robert, who lifted the cover and glanced over the paperwork as a formality, not really reading it. He trusted John implicitly and they all knew it; if John said things were all set, then they were.

"Cora is fine, as we all agreed," Robert said next. "But if you please …" He waved a hand at them all, indicating for them to open the folders before them.

Elsie did as he requested, glancing over the changes to the production team and making a few notes on her phone. She replied to a text from Tom, indicating he'd be a bit late picking her up, and she was just closing that when she heard Phyllis mutter, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Turning her attention back to the list, Elsie saw what it was that had captured Phyllis's attention.

 _Mary Crawley. Of course. And in the lead role._

Elsie glanced at Violet, who raised an eyebrow at her as if inviting the challenge; Elsie ignored it, knowing full well that despite her feelings toward the actual acting ability of Mary Crawley, she'd do best to never take up _that_ particular mantle. This must have been the change to which Violet had alluded. Elsie's surprise was more due to the fact that she hadn't realized Mary was even _acting_ again.

 _She must have a new agent. Even Violet wouldn't have hired her without a good one._

Elsie couldn't wait to get her hands on Mary's audition tape. As producer, she always sat in on the cast auditions when she could, but she was sure to have Phyllis get her recordings of the ones she missed.

 _Of course,_ she thought wryly, _it helps to know when they are happening._

A knock sounded at the door before it swung open. Elsie's eyes were on her phone as she typed in an additional note and her back was to the door, but she didn't need to turn and look to know who'd just come through it.

"I'm so sorry we're late, Papa!" Mary's voice was loud in the small boardroom, and Elsie held in a shudder.

But it was the _next_ voice that sent her into a tailspin.

"Traffic was murder," a deep, rumbling baritone voice was saying, and Robert stood up to extend his hand to the gentleman who had just walked in behind Mary. "I wasn't sure we'd make it at all, but your daughter knew a shortcut."

"Of course I did," Mary scoffed, sitting in one of the chairs beside her grandmother. "I grew up in this neighborhood, didn't I? I obviously know my way around more than that horrid driver."

"I believe you know everyone," Robert was saying.

"Of course. John, good to see you. Phyllis, Violet … and you must be Thomas."

"Yes. Good to finally meet you." Thomas said, shaking the man's hand.

Elsie could feel the man's eyes on her back, and she managed a deep breath as her teeth relinquish their hold on her lip. She turned to face him, a blank expression on her face. He was taller than she remembered, and _definitely_ more handsome than he had been at University.

"Charles. How lovely to see you."

His eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced at Robert before turning his eyes back to Elsie.

"Elsie? Elsie Burns?"

She rose from her chair to greet him; it was the last thing she wanted to do, but she was being horribly rude sitting with her head tilted up to look at him.

"It's Hughes again, actually," she said, and she found herself momentarily distracted by the flicker in his eyes as she shook his hand.

"Ah. Well, then. What brings you here?"

"Elsie's our executive producer, Charles," Robert told him. "I needed the best, and Elsie's it. I'm sure I mentioned it."

"Indeed she is and, no, you didn't." He quirked an eyebrow at her as he took his seat - the only one remaining, directly to Elsie's left. "I'd have remembered that."

Elsie couldn't speak, but she managed to clear her throat and take a sip of water.

"Well," Charles added, "it appears we'll be working rather closely, then. Just like old times."

"Let's hope it ends up a bit better than that, shall we?" she muttered.

Only Violet overheard her, and she emitted an amused titter as she examined them. Elsie reached for her ice water again and nodded, thinking that if Tom Branson hadn't managed to score a new bottle of Scotch for the limo, she just may fire him.

"You're Mary's new agent, I presume?"

"I am," he confirmed. "And the new historical advisor for the project." He glanced over at Violet. "As of two weeks ago, is that right, Violet?"

The older woman nodded. "Just so."

"How wonderful," Elsie said.

Charles looked at her false smile, his own faltering just a bit. But before he could ask anything further, Robert was moving ahead with the meeting.

 **I'd love to know what you think! Please take a moment and let me know. xxx**


	2. The Meeting

**A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews of Chapter 1. I didn't want to keep you waiting too terribly long for the actual meeting. I appreciate all your lovely words - and special thanks to chelsie fan, as always.**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Thursday, 18 August**_

"All right. In your folders, as you see, are sheets with the current cast list." Robert flicked his eyes up and he smiled briefly at Mary before looking back at the list. "Most of you know that Mary's contract with her former agent was up last month, and so we're grateful to Charles for picking her up."

"It was my pleasure," Charles clarified. "As was being brought in on this project."

He looked at everyone seated around the table and saw a bit of skepticism on some of their faces.

"I'm sure it looks funny to some of you," Charles continued, "Robert casting not only his wife but also his daughter, along with hiring his old chum from University. But I can assure you that we all went through the proper channels and that no one was coerced into anything."

"The best proof of which is, perhaps, the fact that the casting agent is Mabel Lane Fox, and she can't stand the sight of me since - well ..." Mary added. "Never mind. But she's an odd one, that girl."

Elsie swallowed a retort, but couldn't quite keep the smirk from her face; fortunately, no one but John noticed it, and he knew how to keep information quiet.

"Behind the updated list is the filming schedule," Robert continued. "Given that this is a docudrama about family life in an English manor estate, I thought it a good idea that we actually film _at_ one instead of just in studio."

Quiet laughter rippled around the table, broken by Violet's interruption.

"Good. There's no sense in continuing on with a project if you can't do so admirably," she said. "But I see you're scheduled to be there after Christmas. What about the weather?"

"The script has been updated a bit, and so the scenes we want the characters in will be outside on the grounds," Robert explained. "Elsie?"

Elsie nodded, adding, "Yes. Production-wise, our costs will be less in the winter. The month following Christmas is one of the worst tourism months of the year for Highclere,* which is the estate where we'll be filming. They'd have charged us more if they had to close the estate to the public during a busier time. And we're hoping for snow, because of a few holiday scenes where it will be required. But the current Lady Carnavon has offered to leave the holiday decorations up for us, meaning we won't have to pay for extra set décor, either. So, all in all, it's a reasonable time to get the on-location filming done."

She looked over at John. "Are we all set with the paperwork for the advance team?"

He nodded. "We are."

"We're sending a smaller crew to Highclere next month," Elsie explained to everyone. "Thomas will be with them, and they'll spend a few days filming some panoramic shots as well as a few stills from inside and some shots of various rooms - particularly the library - that we'll utilize later as backdrops for various scenes. If they come out well enough, we may even fade one of them in for the opening credit sequence, but that's obviously way down the road. But things like the bells in the servants' hall, the view from a few of the windows, close-ups of the front door and the smaller buildings on the property … all of those can all be taken care of by the advance team."

She looked to Thomas and nodded, indicating for him to take over from there.

"Most of the filming with the actors will be done right here at CFP," he told them. "Set design is almost complete, and the head of costuming will be in next week with her final ideas and a few things for us to check out. Once she's gotten up-to-date measurements for the cast, she'll make final selections with her team and get the costume trailers on site. After that, we'll be good to go."

"Charles?" Robert asked. "Anything to add?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid," he replied. "I'm working on a few details, and I've a meeting next week with the set design and props person …" He consulted some notes. "A Mr. Molesley, I believe?"

"Yes," Phyllis chimed in, and everyone turned to her; Phyllis rarely contributed anything to the meetings. "Joseph Molesley."

"Quite so," Charles nodded. "Do you know him?"

"A bit," she allowed, a soft smile coming to her face. "He was a teacher before retiring early to come and work in film. He has a history background, and his attention to detail is quite good. I think you'll get on, Mr. Carson, from what Robert has said about you."

"It's Charles, please," he clarified, and she nodded and turned back to add something to her notes. "We all seem to be on a first-name basis here."

Elsie looked sharply in his direction, wondering if he was being sarcastic, but she should have known better; Charles Carson was _never_ sarcastic.

The rest of the meeting went fairly smoothly - that is, until the very end.

"One more thing before I send you all on your way," Robert said, and everyone turned to face him, a bit concerned by the serious tone of his normally cheerful voice.

"It seems the press may have gotten wind of our project," he began, " and-"

"I wonder how _that_ happened," Mary interrupted scathingly.

Cora glared at her. "If you'd let Papa finish, Mary," she said testily, "you'd realize that your sister had nothing to do with it."

Mary rolled her eyes, but held her tongue.

"It was _not_ the Times," Robert emphasized. "Obviously Edith knows about the project and she's kept it well under wraps as a favor to the family. No, this was Carlisle's rag. Some reporter showed up and started asking questions."

Charles's eyebrows shot up. "Here? How did they get in?"

"Not here," John said, and Elsie noted that his color had risen a bit. She couldn't swear to it, but it appeared to her as though the man were virtually _seething._ "At my house. Someone showed up at my house and began questioning my wife."

"Anna?" Elsie blustered. "But she's not even working on the- _ohh._ Of course." She glanced at Violet, then at Robert and Cora. "She does work for you all. Just not here."

Charles's brow furrowed. "I don't understand," he murmured.

Elsie turned to him. "Anna Bates manages a very successful house cleaning company here in LA. The Crawleys are some of her clients, and it's general knowledge that her husband is their solicitor. Almost all of her clients are celebrities of one sort or another."

"Yes. Carlisle made his best attempt in sending someone fairly new, but between Anna and Gwen, who works with her, they know virtually everyone around," John said.

"And secrets about the rest," Violet added.

"Yes, which is why we all hire Anna," Cora said, praise evident in her voice. "Because she's quite good at _keeping_ our secrets."

Elsie saw Cora glance at Mary, who appeared to have blanched a bit at that, but she brushed it aside, not really wanting to know anyhow.

"It didn't take long to figure out where the young reporter had come from," John said. "So eyes and ears open, people, and mouths shut. You're all bound by contract not to discuss anything related to the actual project, but obviously we hope that you'd not discuss anything about the private lives of those involved in the film, either."

"If I ever do catch wind of that happening," Robert added, "it would be grounds for immediate removal from the project."

He paused, looking over those gathered before him, his eyes resting on them each individually for a few seconds before moving on to the others. It was uncomfortable, and rather unlike him, and that one gesture spoke volumes about the pressure he was feeling.

"We're nearly in danger of going under if this project doesn't succeed," he said quietly. "It pains me to say it, but it's been quite a struggle being at the helm of this company lately. Every time something newer, faster, and more glamorous hits the Hollywood scene, the old standbys like us take a hit."

He looked up at Violet, who nodded firmly, and continued.

"I intend to continue to run CFP the way it always has been run, how it was run by generations before me: good-quality staff, close-knit relationships, and quality productions that are tied into educating people about cultural aspects of the world. But it's a dying market, and I realize that."

He took a deep breath.

"This project will be, without a doubt, the 'sink-or-swim' moment for this company. I'm counting on you all to help keep us afloat."

He gave them all a curt nod of dismissal, and everyone tentatively gathered their things and began putting them back into their folders, with small conversations now breaking out around the table.

Charles looked over at Elsie.

"I'm sorry that my appearance was sprung on you, but I had no idea you were part of this team," he said by way of explanation.

"Clearly," she quipped, but then she softened a bit. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to be rude, but it's been a rather worrisome meeting, I think."

They both glanced at Robert and Cora, whose heads were close together in conversation, Cora's hand stroking her husband's arm.

"This is your first project here?" Charles asked.

"Sort of. It's the first time I'm working directly with Robert and Cora," Elsie explained. "I have done a few smaller jobs for CFP, but they had other project managers." She bit down on her lip. "You know Robert," she added after a moment. "Or perhaps you don't anymore; I have no idea if you've been in touch with them all along."

"I have," he said. "Mostly. Yes, I know Robert."

Charles looked back at Robert and sighed.

"If he's in, he's in all the way. If this project _isn't_ a success, it'll not only be a disaster for the company, but for the man himself."

Elsie nodded slowly, realizing for the first time how vitally important it was that they all pour their hearts and souls into this film.

She looked sideways at Charles, curious as to how he was feeling about it all, but he had just opened his texts and was checking something.

A glance at the top of the phone showed a picture of a woman; she didn't see it long enough to recognize her, but there was something familiar about her face … But what caught the bulk of Elsie's attention was the contact name she saw below it:

 _Home._

* * *

 ***I have no idea what the worst month, financially, would be for Highclere. This is just a fabrication for the purpose of the story.**

 **Would love a wee review if you have the time. x**


	3. Friendly Advice

**A/N: WOW! YOU GUYS! I'm so overwhelmed by the lovely reviews, despite the anticipated not-so-lovely "HOME" we alluded to last chapter. A bit more background here, although not a ton. Sometimes, we need a bit of advice from our friends.**

 **Shout-out to chelsie fan for making each chapter much smoother than they were before she got her paws on them. xxx**

 **Love ya!**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Thursday, 18 August**_

Robert looked down the table as Charles finished gathering his papers. The meeting had gone about as smoothly as Robert had expected, and only they and Cora remained in the room now. Robert hadn't _really_ meant to throw Charles and Elsie together without warning either of them, but time had gotten away from him and he'd simply forgotten to bring it up. Still, it had seemed to go well once they got through the initial shock.

"Time for a drink, old chap?" Robert ventured. "Maybe a bite to eat?"

Charles snapped open his pocket watch and considered. "Why not?" He looked over at Cora. "You don't mind?"

"No! Not at all. You boys go and catch up." She kissed Robert on the cheek. "And behave!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Robert laughed.

But Cora just shook her head and smiled, then stopped to squeeze Charles's shoulder on her way out of the room.

"Good to have you back, Charles. Thank you for joining us so late in the game." She met his gaze directly. "And thank you for putting your neck out for _Mary."_

"My pleasure," he answered with a pleasant nod.

Robert's eyes followed his wife as she left the room, and Charles smirked and looked down at the table when he noted specifically which part of Cora's retreating frame her husband was watching.

"You've still got it bad, eh?"

"What?" Robert looked back at Charles. "Oh," he smirked. "Yes. _Finally,_ I suppose, in our case."

"Oh, come now," Charles said as he pushed back from the table and stood, "it didn't take you that long! It was just you being annoyed that Rosamund picked out someone for you to date who actually _liked_ you."

"And the fact that Cora was still a student!" Robert laughed. "I think that was the worst bit."

"Well, I suppose I can hardly tease you," Charles said, sobering. "You have three beautiful, successful daughters, your own company, and your marriage is perfect."

They bade the receptionist and the door guard goodbye as they headed out to the curb, where Robert hailed one of the cabs from the bank.

"My marriage isn't perfect, Charles," Robert said, serious. "We've had our ups and downs, but we've had to fight for the ups sometimes. We still do. But it's worth the fight."

 **oOoOoOoOo**

Elsie said goodbye to Violet and climbed into the back of her limo, sighing with relief that Tom had placed a rather generous helping of Scotch in the glass now residing in her hand.

She sat, buckled in ( _Safety first!_ ) and downed the Scotch in two; Tom wasn't even back in the driver's seat before she was pouring another glass.

"Slow down, you," he chided her. "Rough meeting? You were in there for bloody ever!"

"I know," she complained. "And I'd like to say it was because of the Blessed Lady Mary, but she was only about ten minutes late."

Just then, Elsie hazarded a glance out the window and noticed Charles and Robert exit the building. They were standing at the curb, and she couldn't figure out why Robert's limo wasn't there to pick them up.

"Tom," she queried, "why is Robert taking a cab?"

"Ditches the second limo after five every day," he replied, pulling away from the curb. "Said it was an 'unnecessary expense.' He keeps the other for Cora, of course."

Elsie blushed a bit, suddenly self-conscious that she was currently being chauffeured about while her boss was about to get in the back seat of a taxicab.

But Tom knew her well enough to read the look on her face instantly, even in the rear-view mirror.

"Don't." His voice sounded clearly through the open window. "He insisted that no one else would be losing any perks, and that includes you and the rest of the crew."

"And how do you know that?"

A pause.

"I might have heard it from a third party," he admitted sheepishly. "But I'd deny that to anyone but you."

Elsie set the empty glass down and chuckled. "And how is the lovely Sybil? Has her shift changed yet so that you can spend more time with her?"

"She's on the eleven p.m. to seven a.m. now," Tom replied. "She's thrilled, because some distant cousin of theirs just transferred to Emergency, same shift."

"That would be Isobel, yes?"

Tom met her eyes in the mirror before making a turn. "Yes. How did you know that?"

"Something Violet said the other day," Elsie said absentmindedly.

But her mind was already back in the boardroom ...

"Elsie? Are you all right?" Tom asked after a while. "Only, you seem a bit distracted."

She didn't answer for a moment, then let out a deep sigh.

"Did you see the gentleman with Robert? The one who got into the cab with him?"

"Yes …"

"He's … Well, he was a friend of ours back in the day. University."

"Charles Carson was a _friend_ of yours?"

"Yes - wait. You _know_ him?"

"I know _of_ him," Tom clarified. "But only because of Alice."

"Alice?"

Tom laughed. "Alice _Neal._ He's her husband; surely you knew?"

Elsie fell back against the seat and felt her heart bottom out in her stomach.

 _How could I not have known this?_

Except that she _did_ understand how. Cora had always been so very good about keeping Elsie up on the family's progress as the girls had grown up, but she'd studiously - at Elsie's request - avoided the topic of Charles's involvement with them.

"No," she whispered, aghast. "No, I did not know that. I mean, I knew he'd gotten married - to an actress, even - but I didn't realize _who_ his wife was."

 _No wonder the picture looked familiar,_ she thought.

"Well, you've never worked with her, I suppose," Tom was saying.

"No."

"Makes sense, then. I know you avoid the local gossip rags as much as you can. But, yes, they've been married forever." Tom paused. "Rumor has it that it's not a happy marriage. He never attends anything with her. I hear it's more a relationship of convenience than anything."

"Ah, well, that _is_ too bad," Elsie admitted.

"So, given that _I'm_ the one telling you this information, I take it he's not a friend anymore? Or, at least, not _your_ friend?" Tom hedged, having a very bad feeling that he knew where this was going.

He caught Elsie nibbling on her lip and knew he was right.

"I wouldn't call us friends, no."

"Elsie … If he treated you poorly back then," Tom began hesitantly, pulling the car up in front of her house and turning to face her directly, "why would Robert bring him on now? That doesn't seem like his style; he's always on about how CFP is a big family."

Elsie smiled wistfully, and Tom spotted a bit of sadness in her countenance.

"I wouldn't presume that Mr. Carson was the one who acted badly," she said softly, staring down at her fingers and running her thumb over a faint scar on one of them. "It's … It _was_... complicated."

"But you were …?" he prompted.

Elsie looked up, and her eyes were misty. "More than friends, yes. Much more. And then, quite suddenly, we were nothing."

"I see. I'm so sorry, Elsie. It must've been quite a shock for you to see him again."

"It was," she nodded. "And for him, too, I think."

Tom got out of the car and opened her door, extending a hand to help her out. "Well, let's hope it all works out for the best. He's Mary's new agent, I presume? I heard she had to get a new one after Gillingham gave up on her."

Elsie nodded. "Yes. Charles is her godfather, actually; did you know that?"

"I did," he replied. "Sybil mentioned it once." He smirked. "Said she was jealous."

"Ha! I'm sure she was, given that _her_ godfather is Dickie Merton," Elsie said with a shudder.

"Well, you'll not be working with Mr. Carson much then, I imagine? Not directly," Tom said.

"Actually, he's been brought in as historical advisor for the project, too. So, yes, I will."

"Oh," Tom sighed. "Well, maybe that _is_ for the best - the historical advisor, I mean. You had mentioned that Robert needed one."

"He did, and I am sure it will work out just fine. We were all right today, once I got over the initial shock." Elsie reached over and squeezed his arm. "Thank you, Tom. I hope you know how much I value your friendship."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I do," he said. "Now go and eat something before that Scotch catches up to you."

Elsie laughed as she headed up her walkway, and then she turned at the door to shout back, "I can still drink _you_ under the table, young man!"

"That you can," he chuckled with admiration.

He got in the car and put a call into Sybil before pulling away from Elsie's house. With any luck, she'd have a few hours for dinner tonight before her shift began.

 **oOoOoOoOo**

Robert backed away from the curb as the cab pulled up, and he and Charles climbed in.

"Mom's*," Robert told the driver.

Charles raised his eyebrows in question.

"Cora's got me on some hideously healthy diet," Robert grumbled. "I need a burger and some greasy chips, preferably alongside a few dark beers."

"A diet? Why?"

"Ulcer," Robert said. "And I can't _really_ have the burger and chips, but I'm having the beer and a bowl of those overly salted peanuts and _pretending_ that I had the rest."

"Robert," Charles warned. "You need to be careful with an ulcer. Should you even be drinking?"

Robert just stared at him, exasperated.

"What? Should you?"

"Oh, Charles. You always did worry more about the rest of us than you did about yourself, didn't you? No, I'm all right. One beer won't kill me - unless you tell Cora," he added sheepishly, "and then _she_ will. Damn thing almost burst last month. Frankly, I'm surprised Mary didn't mention it."

"She said you'd been ill," Charles recalled, frowning. "But certainly nothing of that magnitude!"

"Well, I _had_ started feeling better," Robert explained, "but they said that happens sometimes when the bleeding starts."

"Bleeding?!"

"Steady on, old chap," Robert chuckled. "Yes, bleeding, but they just went in and cauterized- "

Charles held his hand up. "That's enough, thank you."

Just then, thankfully, the taxi pulled up to the pub. Robert leaned forward and slipped his credit card through the scanner as Charles pulled out some bills and tipped the driver, thanking him.

"You're sure you've never been here?" Robert teased, and he laughed at the look of near-disgust on Charles's face as they exited the taxi in front of the restaurant.

"Positive."

"I know it's not the The Polo Lounge**, Charles, but the food really is good."

Charles sighed. "If you say so."

Forty minutes and two beers later, Charles and Robert were laughing uproariously at a story Robert had dug up from their days at University.

"Oh," Charles said, signaling for a third drink for himself and a glass of water for Robert. "I haven't laughed this hard in a long time!"

"Well, that _was_ a pretty good party," Robert chuckled, wiping at his eyes. "I didn't think Mama would ever forgive me! The look on her face when she opened the front door …"

"Made even better by the look on yours!"

The bartender dropped off the drinks and caught Robert's inquisitive (and somewhat annoyed) glance.

"You know you're shut off, Mr. Crawley. I'm not going against _any_ of the women in _your_ family, or for that matter this tall bloke you've come in with today. More than my job's worth, really."

The man turned his attention to Charles. "How's that steak, sir?"

"It's excellent," Charles praised. "Thank you."

The bartender - Peter, Charles learned - left them, and Robert turned to his old friend and looked at him inquisitively.

Charles looked up, swallowed, and furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Charles," Robert asked in a low voice, "is everything alright with Alice?"

Charles sputtered as he swallowed his beer, giving Robert all the answer he needed.

"Oh …"

"Oh," Charles repeated.

Robert let him sit for a while, then ventured, "Is it that awful?"

Charles laid his fork and knife on his plate and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the napkin before folding it precisely and laying it beside the plate.

"It isn't _awful,"_ he answered. "It just isn't much of _anything._ We rarely see one another."

"That's not always bad," Robert reasoned.

"No, it isn't." Charles refused to say it aloud, but he was fairly certain that it was the reason he and Alice were actually still married _._

About five years ago, he and Alice had started sleeping separately; he wondered now if that was the true beginning of the end. They'd come to it by mutual agreement, really, because Alice had been waking frequently with night sweats and general discomfort from menopause and she'd kept waking Charles, who had always been a sound sleeper.

He'd hated it at first; he hadn't been able to sleep without feeling her beside him, and even though the intimacy in their relationship had dwindled considerably prior to that, the separate bedrooms had basically sealed that deal. Once in a great while she'd indulged him, and while she'd never referred to it that way out loud, that's what it had _felt_ like to him - that, to her, the sex was just to pacify him. After three or four sessions like _that,_ he eventually gave up asking.

A few months later, though, he'd established a routine: he'd go to bed with a drink, read his book for half an hour, and gradually doze off. About a year later, he'd switched the alcohol for an herbal tea, something which Alice had recommended based on a suggestion from a friend at the health club where she belonged. A lifelong hater of tea, Charles had turned his nose up at the idea, but he'd come to tolerate the chamomile one as the weeks wore on.

And he had to admit, he _was_ sleeping better.

"Charles?"

Robert's voice snapped him back to the present. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Robert assured him.

"So," Charles said slowly, thinking back to a comment Robert had made earlier. "You said it's 'not perfect' between you and Cora. What does that mean? If I may be so bold, that is."

Robert drummed his fingers on his water glass. "I almost had an affair."

Charles's eyes became saucer-sized. "You _what?"_

"I know," Robert sighed, his hands up in defense. "Stupid. And it _was_ stupid - the whole bloody thing."

Charles thought back to those early years, the ones when Robert and Cora had first gotten together, thought of how in love they'd been back then.

 _Much like me with Alice,_ he reminded himself. _And look where we are now._

"Why?" he asked aloud. "Was she younger? Couldn't have been prettier …"

"No, not prettier. She was a bit younger, but not much. Jane is her name. She has a son - Freddy. He's twelve. Her husband was a soldier, killed overseas, and she came to the studio as a temp."

"So how did _you_ actually meet her? I mean, you don't meet most of the studio employees, do you?"

"No." Robert half-smiled, wistful. "But she filled in for Phyllis one day, in an emergency. She didn't say much at first, but noticed the book I was reading over lunchtime and commented on it; she'd just finished it, and wondered what I thought. And so we started talking."

"And … what happened?"

"Nothing. Not for a while. But we'd chat on occasion when we saw one another, and then Jane covered for Phyllis for an entire week when she was on vacation. One day, when I'd been arguing quite a bit with Cora over her wanting a part in the film and my questioning the propriety of that …"

"Oh, tell me you didn't deny her a part in the film," Charles chastised. "Robert!"

Robert at least had the decency to look sheepish. "I know, I know," he insisted. "But Cora's approach was that CFP is 'her home' and that 'she should be the lead on the project.' I had to make her go through the proper channels."

"So you were fighting," Charles prompted. "And?"

Robert shrugged. "And Jane and I worked closely that entire week. I could tell she was interested. And then, on her last day, she kissed me. Or I kissed her, perhaps. I'm not sure."

The disappointment was evident on his friend's face, but Robert was very glad not to see outright disgust.

"And?"

"And … And it was a horrible decision," Robert admitted. "I mean, it felt _good,_ don't get me wrong. Felt good to have someone interested, to see me as desirable in that way. I'd be a fool to admit otherwise. Cora hadn't looked at me that way in ages. But we heard someone around the corner and I pushed her away. She was hurt - I saw that in her eyes - and it was like cold water had been poured over me and woken me from some dream. I couldn't believe I'd allowed it to happen, and I told her it could never happen again."

"I hope she's not here anymore."

"No," Robert admitted. "She left the following week. Her son had been accepted to a private school, and I gave her a bit of money to help them out because I felt that it was my fault she was without employment on the cusp of needing more funds to pay his tuition."

"And you were right," Charles said. It wasn't said in an accusing matter, just as a statement of fact.

"Yes," Robert said, signaling for the bill, which he paid immediately. "But I've never forgotten that."

"When did this all happen?"

Robert thought for a moment. "A year ago, more or less. Because it was just prior to when Cora auditioned for the role, and we've had her locked in for ages now. She was the second or third to be cast. No one knows about it except, oddly, Elsie."

Charles's eyebrows shot up. "Elsie?"

Robert nodded. "She was involved in a small production with us then. Jane actually confided in her when it all came to a head. I'm fairly sure it was _Elsie_ who helped Jane to get work elsewhere."

They got up to leave, and this time it was Charles who hailed a taxi for them.

"Do you mind dropping me at the flat?" he asked. "I think Alice is in, and I'd like to see her." He took a deep breath, and nodded, decisive about something. "We need to talk."

Robert just smiled and nodded.

"Sure thing, old chap."

* * *

 *** and ** - popular LA haunts - Mom's one that Charles Carson would normally not be caught dead in of his own volition. Thanks to SS for those tips**

 **I'd love a review if you're so inclined! xx**


	4. Saturday Tea

**A/N: Thanks to you all for the splendid support you've given me. It means more than you know. xx**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Saturday, 3 September**_

The table tucked away in the corner of the café was perfect for Elsie, and Beryl Patmore kept it reserved for her every Saturday afternoon around two o'clock. It was Elsie's 'me time,' when she could hide from everyday life and work and take two hours to herself. Once a month or so, Anna Bates would join her, but most of the time Elsie was alone. Well, except for when Beryl had five minutes to spare and would come out and unceremoniously plop down at Elsie's table. But that was all right, too, as Elsie rarely saw her friend. Between Elsie's crazy schedule when she was working on a project and Beryl's regular hours at the café _and_ her efforts at refurbishing the new establishment in which she'd just invested, they barely even texted each other more than once a week.

Today, however, Elsie was alone. She was nursing the end of her second pot of tea and starting the second-to-last chapter of a novel she'd brought along when a deep, familiar voice could be heard from around the corner.

"Thank you," Charles was saying to the hostess, and Elsie heard Violet Crawley's unmistakable voice in reply.

"Yes, thank you. I can't abide sitting by that sunny window they put us at last time. I don't know how anyone could stand having the light in their eyes!"

Elsie smiled as she saw how the sunlight shone in through the restaurant's windows, bouncing off the teapot on her table; if it ever landed in her eyes, she simply shifted her position a bit. It was LA, after all, and sun was plentiful.

But, then again, this was Violet, and Elsie knew that the woman was particular.

Elsie supposed she should have gone over and greeted them, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She was mostly unable to hear their conversation over the din of the café, but she still managed to catch a few words from Charles simply because his voice carried so well.

"Robert … set … integrity … accurate … budget … Of course not! … Alice ..."

It wasn't enough for her to piece together, but after ten minutes of trying she chastised herself and dug her earbuds out of her bag, plugged them into her phone, and put on some music to listen to instead.

It was Beryl's presence by her side that brought her back to reality about twenty minutes later. She didn't look up immediately but rather read the last two paragraphs of the book, sighed deeply, and closed the cover while pulling out the earbuds. She looked up at Beryl over the tops of her reading glasses.

"Care to join me? I've just finished."

Beryl plopped down in the chair opposite Elsie. "I've been on my feet for ten hours," she huffed, exhausted. "And if Daisy …"

But she couldn't finish the statement, because just then the subject of it appeared in a tizzy.

"Hello, Ms. Hughes," Daisy breathed, bobbing her head. "Would you like another pot?"

"Oh, heavens no," Elsie replied. "But do you have any of those delightful biscuits you had last week?"

"The chocolate ones, ma'am?"

Elsie smiled and nodded excitedly. "Those are the ones! I'd love two, and perhaps a glass of milk to go with them."

"You're such a child," Beryl muttered, but she winked at her friend when Elsie looked up.

"Right away, Ms. Hughes." Daisy whisked the teapot and cup onto a tray, took two steps away, and returned.

"And you, Mrs. Patmore? Would you like anything?"

"As if I have time to sit and enjoy a snack! No, thank you, Daisy. I'll be back there in five minutes, so you'd best warn them."

Daisy nodded. "Right away, Mrs. Patmore," she replied, and she skittered off.

Elsie shook her head and laughed. "You're awful, you know?"

Beryl leaned in and attempted a whisper. "She's making me crazy! She means well, and I suppose she's trying, but -"

"But nothing," Elsie interrupted. "She's a good girl, and she worships you. You'll never find anyone as dedicated as she is. Working the front end _and_ doing half your baking? Come on, Beryl; even you can't complain about that."

"I know," Beryl admitted, fiddling with her apron. She looked up as Elsie was taking off her reading glasses and sliding them into their case. "But what am I to do when the Derby* opens?"

"That's in five months!" Elsie exclaimed.

"Hush," Beryl whispered, looking around to see if anyone had overheard. "I know that! It's just that I was hoping she'd be able to manage on her own here for a few hours at a time. But she's so scattered …"

Daisy returned and dropped off the biscuits and milk, then left without a word. Elsie immediately started in on them, not speaking again until Daisy was clearly out of sight and earshot.

"So don't have her wait tables! Really, Beryl. She's proven her prowess in the kitchen. Hire a front-end manager for when you're at the Derby and leave the kitchen here to Daisy. This is not - no offense - a huge, upscale establishment. Gourmet sandwiches and soups, biscuits and other pastries … she's a marvel at all of that!" She held up the half-eaten biscuit as proof of her statement, and then promptly dunked it in the milk.

Beryl sighed, raised her eyebrows, and nodded as she repeated her friend's words in her head. "I know," she admitted. "I know! You're right; she's fine."

They chatted on a bit more, but Beryl saw how Elsie kept looking over the short wall beside the table, clearly interested in something - or _someone,_ Beryl surmised - that the she couldn't see herself.

"Elsie? I'm over here," Beryl teased, waving a hand in front of Elsie's face. "What in wonderland has you so distracted?"

Elsie flushed a bit and took a huge gulp of milk. "Nothing."

"Yeah, that's a lie," Beryl chuckled. She turned a bit in her seat, craning her neck and noting that half the cafe had emptied out in the last few minutes.

"Well," she said with a smirk, "I'm going to guess that it's not the elder Mrs. Crawley that you're so interested in."

Elsie's nostrils flared. "I'm not _interested_ in anybody, as you well know!"

"Pity; he's rather dashing. And I do well know you're not interested in anyone. I've given up trying, although I'm holding out for George Clooney getting a divorce."

Elsie choked on a bite of biscuit, coughing into her napkin and subsequently wiping at her eyes. "Seriously? You're mad."

"He could become available! You never know, Elsie; stranger things have happened in Hollywood."**

"You know who _is_ available?" Elsie retorted. "Al Mason."

Beryl flushed a very deep shade of crimson, suitably chastised.

"Touché," she muttered. "But that's not really the same. I mean, you're _you,_ and I'm … I'm just … "

"You're _wonderful,"_ Elsie said softly, reaching out and patting her friend's hand. "And your time will come. Just like mine will," she said, smirking, "but _not_ with George. His wife seems lovely, but I bet she'd put up a good fight."

Beryl looked up to see Elsie's expression, and they both dissolved in a fit of laughter.

"I just want wonderful things for you," Beryl said. "You know that I hated Joe. He was never good enough for you."

"You met him _once,"_ Elsie reminded her. "But no, you're right … he wasn't. I just wish it hadn't taken _me_ so long to notice that."

Beryl contemplated her friend. "I've known you since you first started making your way here, Elsie. Something is on your mind now. Care to share?"

Elsie's eyes flicked involuntarily to Charles's table again; Beryl noticed, but thankfully kept her thoughts to herself - a rarity for which Elsie was grateful.

"Someday," she answered, and the rest of her reply was interrupted by the rush of warm air as the restaurant's door opened.

Elsie immediately recognized the blonde haired woman who'd breezed in, and she called over the little wall to her.

"Anna!" She waved, and Anna heard her and turned to smile and head over to their table.

Except that Anna wasn't the only one who heard Elsie. Just as the producer looked up to catch Anna's eye, she found Charles staring at her.

Their eyes locked for a moment too long, and Anna noticed; fortunately for them all, Beryl did not.

"Elsie," Anna exclaimed, reaching down to give her a hug before pulling over a chair.

But Beryl stopped her. "Here, take mine; I've got to get back in there." She looked at Elsie. "Call me? Maybe we can catch a movie next weekend. I think I'm free for a few hours on Sunday."

"Perfect; I'll do that." Elsie blew her friend a kiss as Anna sat down in the newly-vacated seat.

"So," Elsie said quietly, resolutely ignoring the fact that both she and Anna had seen Charles staring at her, "I hear you had a visitor a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh my gosh, it was awful!" Anna whispered, glancing about. "I thought John was going to kill the poor man."

"I'm glad he refrained," Elsie commented wryly. "That would most definitely not be good for business at CFP."

But the look on Anna's face was serious. "It was frightening, Elsie, I don't mind telling you. That someone would just knock on the door and start firing questions at me. He stuck his foot in the door so that I couldn't close it!"

"Wait." Elsie's brow was furrowed. "What kind of questions was he asking?"

Anna shook her head slowly, her eyes not leaving Elsie's. "Horrible things," she whispered. "About the family. Not about the project, exactly, but about Robert and Cora, Mary ..." She paused. "And Charles Carson."

Elsie's eyebrows flew up again. "Really? My, my … news does travel fast. We didn't even hear about this reporter until the day Charles showed up for his first meeting. So how did that reporter know _he'd_ be involved with us? _I_ hadn't even known until the moment Charles walked into the room, and I'm the bloody producer!"

"I don't know! It was so strange. And I wouldn't have even recognized his name except that -"

"You work for the family," Elsie was nodding. "Yes. And they're all friends with Charles."

"But how would this reporter have pieced together that _I_ would know him? I mean, you're their friend, too. That doesn't mean _you_ knew him."

Anna was looking at her pointedly; Elsie tried, but she couldn't keep the guilty look off her face.

"That wasn't fair," she told Anna. "How did you know?"

Anna turned around and caught Charles staring at their table, even as he was mid-conversation with Violet.

"I saw how you looked at each other when I arrived. I'm guessing he hasn't stopped watching you since," she said softly. "Is there something I should be worried about?"

"Don't be silly," Elsie scoffed. "Besides, isn't it _me_ who's usually worrying about _you?"_

"Usually," Anna agreed. "But … well, sometimes I worry about you, too. I hope you know that."

"I do," Elsie replied fondly. "And I appreciate that." She drew her lip under her teeth, and Anna let her work through her thoughts.

"Charles and I go way back," she said eventually. "University days. He's four years older than I am, but I started a semester earlier than most students, and Robert and I are only two years apart. So, for a little while, we were all there together."

"And you were all good friends," Anna said. "Now it makes sense."

Elsie spoke before she could stop herself.

"Charles and I ... were _more_ than friends." She regretted the words instantly, but Anna was trustworthy.

Anna nodded slowly. "Ah, of course."

"Yes, well, it was a long time ago," Elsie said, and she waved a hand in the air, signaling for the bill.

"Is it going to be a problem? Elsie … you'd say if something were wrong, wouldn't you?"

Anna's smile was kind, but Elsie recognized the concern that was already blossoming in her young friend's eyes.

"Yes," she assured Anna. "It's fine now - we rarely even have to speak to each other anyhow. Water under the bridge. Besides, he's married."

A waitress brought the bill, and Elsie glanced at it before tucking her card into the little folder and handing it back to the girl.

"True," Anna said. "But funny thing about that …"

"I'm sorry?"

Anna looked out the window for a moment, then directly at Elsie.

"That reporter? He was asking me about Charles and Alice's _marriage._ If it's on the rocks, what I knew about it. That's when John showed up and flipped out on the guy."

"Why would a reporter ask _you_ about that?" Elsie mused. "You don't know Alice, do you?"

Anna shook her head.

"I have no idea," Anna said. "Just … be careful, Elsie. Because someone is clearly out to cause trouble for this film, and none of you need that."

They got up and headed out, and Elsie noted that Violet was alone at the table. Figuring Charles was in the restroom, she held the door open for Anna and they waited for Tom to bring the car around.

"I'm sorry I was so late in getting here," Anna said. "Not much of a visit, I know."

"Extra work for Cora, I'm guessing? I know there's a party for the cast and crew next weekend."

Anna nodded. "Yes, although most of my time was spent working with the kid from the catering service they usually hire. Showing him around the kitchen, where everything is. His name's Alfred. He brought a few samples of things, and Cora left it up to me to make decisions about the menu."

"Well, that's nice," Elsie smiled. "She trusts your opinion, knows you'd say if something were not up to snuff. Everything was good, I take it?"

"Really good! But oh my God, he's really _tall,"_ Anna said with a laugh. "I felt like a child next to him but I've got to be ten years older than he is!"

"Well, as long as he can cook," Elsie said.

Tom pulled up and tipped his hat at Anna dramatically, who laughed at him.

"You're a piece of work," she teased, swatting his arm. "It's a wonder Sybil puts up with you at all."

"Hey, Anna. And don't I know it! Can we drop you off on the way?" Tom offered.

Anna checked her watch. "Actually, that would be lovely. I think John will be home soon, and it's my turn to make dinner."

As they climbed in and Tom shut the door, Elsie saw Charles helping Violet into her own car two spots up. She hadn't realized they'd left just after she and Anna had.

Tom made to pull forward, but before he could do so a sporty red convertible pulled into the empty spot just in front of them, and Elsie's breath caught in her throat as she saw the now-recognizable face behind the wheel.

 _Alice._

Elsie typically hated her limo's heavily-tinted windows, but she was grateful for them now, realizing that Charles glanced over at their car but couldn't see inside. They both watched as he climbed into the seat beside Alice.

"You've got to hand it to her," Anna murmured in Elsie's ear, "she looks great in that car."

 _So does Charles,_ Elsie couldn't help but think.

They watched as another car backed into the spot Violet's limo had just vacated, parking front of Alice and blocking the way. Elsie saw Alice get agitated and loud (she presumed; Alice's flailing arm and gesturing indicated it), clearly annoyed at having her way barred, and she noted that Charles was trying to calm her down. They both saw as Alice turned her irritation on him and watched him argue back a bit, albeit with less enthusiasm.

"No wonder that reporter was asking about them," Anna murmured. "If they're like this in plain sight, it'll be a miracle if the rumors stay out of the paper for the rest of the week!"

"What rumors?" Elsie asked, pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"About them divorcing," Anna said. "Although everyone in LA is divorcing all the time, if you listen to the right people."

"True," Elsie mused, her attention still drawn to the red sports car. "Very, very true."

*-The Derby – old, iconic LA establishment. Was a brilliant suggestion from my LA Guru, S.S.

** - Was originally Brad Pitt, until it was suggested that George was a better fit, given his Text Santa history. Nevertheless, this was written before the announcement of the twins. No offense meant.


	5. Paperwork

**A/N: Thanks again for the lovely reviews - each one means a great deal to me. To all the guests to whom I cannot reply in person ... this means you, too.  
I love how you're all thinking and questioning what's to come next. Thanks for that.  
Love to chelsie fan for beta services rendered. xxx**

 **CSotA**

 _ **Tuesday, 6 September**_

Charles sighed as his hands traveled up and down her body. His eyes were closed, but he mapped out a trail across what he knew was pale, freckled, beautiful skin; she sat astride him, her short, panting breaths sounding louder than usual as they echoed in his room.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and found her staring intently at him; she stopped moving, and he took her hands in his and laced their fingers together, both of them squeezing tightly, chasing something that had been missing between them for a very long time.

She leaned down to kiss him, and he took her in his arms and flipped them over, spurred on by the feel of her lips and tongue on his own …

"Faster," she whispered in his ear, the tilt of her hips and the pressure from her legs pulling him in deeper as he readily complied.

Later, fully spent, he lay back on the pillow as she slipped from the bed and padded into the bathroom across the hall.

"Elsie …" he whispered.

She turned and looked at him, unsmiling, and then turned back and walked away …

Charles woke with a start before collapsing back on his pillow.

 _Not again._

He'd had the dream for five nights in a row now, this dream full of memories both faint and sharp, of chasing the smell of her perfume and peering through the hazy image of her by the doorway, turning and walking away from him forever. It had made ignoring her in the restaurant the other day damn near impossible.

He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, frustrated, and got out of bed. As he made his way to the kitchen, he wondered why it wasn't Alice he was dreaming of; Alice, his wife …

For now.

As he flipped on the kitchen light, Charles's eyes fell upon the folders on the countertop, the product of the discussion he and Alice had begun three weeks ago; by mutual agreement, they were filing for divorce.

He needed coffee. Strong, black coffee … immediately.

 _You were lucky, old man,_ he thought as he ran the beans through the grinder and prepared the press. _She took it rather well._

 _Too well?_

 _Perhaps._

He hadn't expected a fight, not really. He'd expected to be ignored, or perhaps laughed at. He'd thought she might decline the offer of a quiet divorce, might insist on remaining married to protect her reputation. But it was Hollywood, after all - the land where, half the time, divorce _increases_ one's profile instead of harming it.

Charles was the one who had suggested mediation. They were both officially residing in the US; Charles had changed his address when it became clear he'd be in California for almost a year working on Robert's film. Alice had agreed, and they were in process of dividing their liquid assets. Alice had always brought in the most money, and Charles had seen to it at the start of their careers that each of them would bank their finances separately, contributing half of each month's household expenses plus another ten percent of that amount to a shared account from which things would be paid, leaving a buffer for the inevitable leaky roof or sticking window jamb.

He was grateful now that he'd had the foresight to set things up that way. He knew that by law, he was entitled to half of Alice's fortune, but he simply didn't _want_ it. He had enough of his own money saved and didn't see the need to take what was, in his mind, rightfully hers. And it meant she'd have no need for half of his, either.

"There you are," came Alice's voice from the doorway to the kitchen. She entered the room and peered over her husband's shoulder at the papers strewn before him on the countertop. "This is so like you," she said with a genuine smile. "Ever the fastidious one. Have you got it all sorted, then?"

Charles returned her smile in kind as she made her way to the kettle.

"That's nearly boiling," he cautioned. "I just shut it for you a moment ago."

"Thanks." She added her tea to the pot, poured in the water, and let it sit while she joined him at the counter.

"And, yes, I think it's all sorted." He slid some papers over to her and donned his reading glasses. "Here are the most recent statements from your business and personal accounts, along with the investment portfolio we kept in your name. It's done well over the past several months," he commented, pointing a few things out.

"All right," she murmured, peering at the numbers.

"And these are the property appraisals," he said, opening a folder and withdrawing two sets of papers from it. "This flat, and then the house back home."

Alice chuckled. _"This_ is home now, Charlie," she reminded him.

"It's _your_ home, yes," he countered gently. "Which is why I'd like you to simply take this place."

Her eyes widened. "And you'd like the London house."

Charles nodded. "Yes, I would. It's appraised for less, so you're making out on that deal, too."

Alice got up to retrieve the tea, poured herself a cup, and stood opposite the counter from her husband, her brow gently furrowed.

"Why are you doing this, Charles?"

"How do you mean?"

"This," she repeated, waving an arm over the paperwork. "It's rather generous, even for you."

Charles pursed his lips and peered at her over the top of his glasses. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said, his eyebrow raising.

"I did mean it as such, yes."

He took a deep breath. "You've worked hard your entire career, as have I. We've both chosen our projects carefully and have invested in things that interest or are important to us. I see no reason to chivvy you out of what's rightfully yours, and I presume you feel the same; although, given the state of your portfolio, you certainly don't _need_ anything that's mine." He smiled, buffering what could have come across as a snide remark.

But Alice just looked over the papers again, her mind turning.

 _I'll end up with everything I want,_ she realized. _And nothing I don't._

She looked back up at him and nodded slowly. "Okay, then. Let's do it. Draw up the proposal, and we'll meet with the mediator as soon as possible."

"Agreed. And, Alice?"

"Hm?" She glanced at him and placed her cup on the counter, crossing her arms as if expecting some sort of attack.

"Can we keep it out of the papers? At least … At least for the next few months? Robert doesn't need any more publicity about anyone involved in the film project - not yet, anyhow."

"You're hardly the crucial player in _that,_ Charles," she scoffed, "but of course we can."

Charles watched as she turned toward the stove and pulled out a pan for their breakfast. It was an odd combination of things running through his mind: bemusement at how she insisted on still cooking all her own food despite the fact that they could hire a private chef, a dressing gown she wore that he didn't even recognize, and the hurt he felt at her choice of words.

 _Hardly the crucial player,_ he repeated to himself. _Not in the film, nor in our marriage, either. Not anymore._

He turned his eyes down to his coffee cup and, out of nowhere, had a thought.

He pondered it for a few moments, then looked at Alice and truly examined her features and countenance, his eyes following her movements as she cracked the eggs, added some veg to the pan, and began omelets for them both. He noted she'd put a few pounds back on, filling in nicely in areas where, a while back, he'd thought she was becoming too thin. Her hair was gorgeous, as always, and pulled up in a twist, and her skin was positively glowing, with little evidence of having aged much in the past several years. She seemed … content, relaxed, and healthy.

It wasn't the Alice he'd come so accustomed to seeing, and the realization was like a shock to his system. How could he not have noticed those changes before now?

 _I wonder if she's having an affair._

He would have immediately dismissed the thought had it not been for his recent conversation with Robert. But if _Robert_ would consider something like that, then Alice _definitely_ would. Charles still cared a great deal for her, but he was no fool; Alice was the same now as she always had been - willing to do quite a bit, indeed, to stay at the top of the entertainment world.

And Charles remained as _he_ always had been, too - not nearly a powerful enough man to keep her there on his own.

 **oOoOoOoOo**

Elsie pulled the remainder of her pizza out of the oven and tossed it onto a plate, assessing its qualities.

 _Cheese for protein, a bit of carb, and something green for good measure. There - breakfast._

She took it and a large glass of water into the dining room, where she'd laid out a few things the night before.

A soft jingle sounded and she looked down to see Boots, her Scottish fold, staring up at her with a forlorn expression.

"I've not forgotten you," she cooed to him, reaching down to scratch his head and then pulling a plain piece of cold cheese off the side of her plate. "Did you not see me set this down before I even fed myself?"

"Meow."

"Mm-hm," she replied, breaking the cheese into a few pieces and feeding the cat in between bites of her own food. When the last of the cheese was gone, she displayed her empty hands, allowing Boots to sniff them before padding off for his early-morning nap in the sunny window by the front door.

Turning her attention back to the table, Elsie reached for the box of photos that she'd not had the wherewithal to go through last night; they were in old envelopes from various developing companies, from the time when one sent film away to be developed. She smiled weakly as she remembered how hard it had been to send her own photos off as opposed to developing them in the darkroom her Da had set up for her back home, but she simply hadn't been able to do it herself anymore once she started at University.

Elsie trailed a fingertip over one of the notations she'd written on an envelope.

 _April, 1967._

The months and years were, in fact, written on each envelope, but over time some of the photos had become mixed into the wrong groups when she'd sorted a few into scrapbooks, albums, and one calendar she'd made for a cousin and sent to Scotland.

The first bundle, however, was as it should be: photos from home when she was a lass. They'd never had much in the way of money during her childhood, but Elsie's father had purchased a used camera for her the year she turned twelve, and he'd shown her how to use it, too. Between the two of them they'd managed to record each annual visit by her grandparents, aunts and uncles and, eventually, cousins, all having come to help during each lambing season.

She flipped through photographs, smiling here and there at her Mam's beautiful face and her Da's strong demeanor. He could have been a fighter, but Elsie had always known him to be gentle and kind, with a twinkle in his eyes that told of a mischievous boy still living within the blond- and silver-haired man he'd become. She spared a moment to mourn him; despite always being the picture of health for most of his life, he'd succumbed to a heart attack when she was still a student at University.

 _The beginning of the end,_ she thought, but she pushed aside almost immediately.

The next two envelopes - a bit further back, chronologically - contained pictures from grammar school, and the old-fashioned, scalloped edging on them made her smile as she traced her finger over it; there were photos of first days, of birthday parties on the farm, of their terrier, Scout, who'd kept the barn free of rats.

 _Damn, I loved that dog._

She reached for the next one and stumbled upon what she was looking for: the last year of high school, her smiling face as she clutched her exam results, and a few shots from moving into her dormitory at Uni.

Her gasp was audible as her eyes landed on Charles's profile in the third one.

 _Charles Carson._ _ **There**_ _you are._

She stared at the photograph, contemplating him, comparing the man she'd been working with recently to the one in the picture. He'd filled out some, but not in a way that she found unattractive. He still appeared muscular, and his frame and size suited him, in her opinion. His thick hair was no less so nowadays, and the silver color only enhanced his features. It had taken her a couple of days to get used to seeing him in a suit, but clearly he'd never show up in a career setting wearing his favorite jeans and trainers from when he was in his twenties.

Elsie's mind wandered a bit, thinking about how Charles was finally in his element, delving into history and working on a film about the grand old family estates of England. He should be walking on air, she realized, and yet he didn't have the happy glow or frequent smiles she remembered from years ago. He seemed … unhappy, distracted, or maybe just tired. It surprised her and made her wonder if Tom and Anna were right in their assessment of the Neal-Carson marriage.

Or, perhaps, Elsie just didn't really know the man as well now as she once had. She had certainly changed quite a bit from the woman she'd been in those days; presumably, so had he. His marriage to a woman like Alice Neal certainly spoke volumes.

Elsie pulled the last package of pictures towards herself and sighed, then pried the flap open.

 _You don't have to do this,_ she tried to tell herself.

Oh, but she really _did._ Because if Charles walking back into her life after thirty-some-odd years had made her as uncomfortable as it had a couple of weeks ago, then it was time she put the past to bed for good.

She slipped the photos out. On top, as expected, was a photo from some charity event the University had put on. Charles had graduated the year prior but had returned for the event; Elsie remembered that night well. She'd spent it at Charles's flat, harboring silent hopes of moving in with him when she got her own degree. They'd discussed it, even … once.

That, of course, had never happened.

She set the photo aside, feeling her chest clench as she flipped through a few more pictures of their friends - including one of Robert and Cora, who'd just met the weekend prior to when it was taken. Cora had been visiting family and had met Rosamund, Elsie knew, and the rest was clearly history. A raspy laugh escaped Elsie's lips as she remembered how she'd needed time to warm up to Cora, but how it was Cora and not any of the others who'd stayed in touch with her over the years. They'd remained good friends, although sometimes years would go by without the chance to catch up. It had been Elsie's only link to this other life, and she'd come to cherish their friendship as time went on.

But it was the rest of the photographs that she'd been dreading, and as she flipped through them she was vaguely aware of her phone vibrating on the table beside her.

 _Ignore it._

The photo on top was of the farm at home, now a beautiful color photograph instead of the black-and-whites from her childhood. The grass had gone brown and the house was dilapidated, the paint faded.

One of Mam's dresses was hanging on the line, next to two towels. Elsie remembered that dress; she'd sewn it for her Mam as a birthday gift a decade before the photo in her hand had been taken. The photo had won an amateur photography award the following year, but that would never be what Elsie remembered first when she thought about having captured the moment.

All she'd remember was that it had been the day she'd returned home in a hurry, on an overnight train, with Becky's trembling hand held in her own … how she'd stopped by the fence, had convinced Becky to go through the gate, and how Becky had insisted on Elsie taking a picture of the "pretty dress on the line."

Becky, the secret that Elsie had never shared with another soul, evidenced most harshly by the piece of paper that slid out from its hiding spot behind the picture.

 _Elsie,_

 _I hope so very much that this letter makes it safely to your hands. It's been ages since we've spoken, and you're clearly no longer returning my calls, either. I've been trying to decipher if your sudden disappearance was my doing, but I cannot find an explanation in my mind or in my heart as to why._

 _Please write, or phone, and at least let me know that you're safe. I know you've not returned to school, which is so very unlike you. I'm assuming you are still at your family's farm, but have no idea really. The last four times I telephoned there was no answer._

 _I'm sorry, I just don't know what to say._

 _I miss you. Please let us know that you're all right. Me, Cora, someone._

 _Yours,_

 _Charles_

Elsie didn't realize she was crying until she reached up to remove her glasses and noticed that the bottom of one of the lenses was wet. She'd written to him twice after receiving the letter in her hand, but she'd never heard back from him again. The next time she'd heard his name, it was in reference to the fact that he was marrying, but she hadn't wanted to hear any of the details.

She folded the letter and carried it to the fireplace. She tossed it in, then lit a match and dropped it gently at the corner of the letter, watching the old paper curl up in the flames until there was no longer any evidence at all that it had ever existed. She didn't need the reminder anymore; she'd had the thing memorized for decades.

"Time to move on," she muttered aloud.

But only Boots was there to witness her decision, and the only reaction that came from him was a soft mewl and a flick of his tail as he continued to dream.

 **(Begs for reviews that are not of the "charging CSotA with a stake" variety ... well aware you all my be a bit miffed by that ending, but have faith in me ...) xx**


	6. Speechless

**A/N: Same scene, different perspectives. Familiar to some of you – longer note of explanation at end. xx**

* * *

 **I see you at a party and you look the same**

 **I could take you back**

 **But people don't ever change**

 **Wish that we could go back in time**

 **I'd be the one you thought you'd find …**

 **From "Burning House," by Cam**

* * *

 _ **Saturday, 10 September**_

"Oh, my God," Elsie murmured as she looked out the car's window, and she heard Sybil laugh beside her.

"You shouldn't be surprised! It's just like all of Mum's bashes," the young woman giggled. She leaned forward and slid open the divider separating them from the limo's driver.

"Come on, Tom, can't you park properly? What kind of chauffeur are you, anyhow?" she teased.

"Tall, not too dark, and handsome," he replied instantly, giving Elsie the impression they'd had this conversation before. It warmed her heart knowing that they seemed to have found happiness with one another; she knew it was still early days for Sybil and Tom, but Elsie remembered that first flush of young love only too well.

 _I hope it works out better for_ _ **them,**_ she thought grimly.

Tom pulled into the next available spot in front of the Crawley's sprawling estate in the Hollywood Hills, and as he stepped out of the limo, he tossed his chauffeur's cap onto the front seat and turned the car over to the valet.

"She's all yours," he said, and the valet nodded as Tom held his arm out to Sybil. "Tonight, I get to play the guest instead of hanging out with you lot."

The valet tipped his hat. "Enjoy, Tom! Have one for us, will ya?"

"Sure thing - maybe I'll even manage _two."_

"Cheeky," Sybil told him as she took his hand, and she turned to find Elsie staring out over the grounds. "Elsie? Are you all right?"

"Hm?" Elsie turned around to find Sybil looking at her peculiarly. "Oh - yes, dear, I'm fine. Shall we?"

The sound of Elsie's sandals clicked on the gravel walkway as they made their way to the front door. The perfectly manicured lawn and the small pond and fountain were the perfect backdrop to the stunning flowers pouring out of the decorative urns that lined the paths. Fragrance from hydrangea, lily, and peony mingled together in a pleasing way; the evening was warm, but not overly so, and a soft breeze blew at the wisps of hair that Elsie had left down from her up-do. She'd been afraid she'd overdone her outfit ... until she'd seen Sybil, whose hair was also up and studded with rhinestones that matched her sparkly shoes.

Elsie looked down at her own choice of attire: her soft, cream-colored palazzo pants, out from which peeked her open-toed sandals; her favorite jade green silk blouse with a faint paisley print. She reached up to finger her emerald teardrop earrings, a favorite from her Uni days that, despite the sad memories attached to them, she couldn't seem to part with. The comb holding up her hair was ivory like the pants; all in all, she felt pretty good.

Cora had insisted that the party was to be a relatively small affair to welcome the new employees who had never worked on a film with Robert's company before, but one glance at the number of people currently occupying the vast grounds of the estate told her that "relatively small affair"was probably a gross understatement.

The place was _teeming_ with guests. Elsie and Sybil were some of the last to arrive, and Elsie spotted the entire Crawley family (save for Violet, whom she couldn't seem to locate), every member of the crew, staff, and their spouses, and all of the key actors in the production milling about. It made her wonder who was _inside,_ but she had her answer soon enough as a team of a dozen or more waitstaff - mixed women and men, clad in tuxedos - came out bearing trays of hors d'œuvres, which they began offering to the guests. Of course; the house would be full of staff to wait on them all, too, and no doubt Cora's massive kitchen was being put to good use.

"The children are inside," Sybil said, as if reading Elsie's mind. "Mum hired some sitters and set up a sleepover for anyone who wanted to bring children and not drive home after the party. I believe she used the words 'tent party' when describing the downstairs family room."

"I've got to hand it to her," Elsie replied. "Your mother certainly knows how to make people feel welcomed, spoiled, and appreciated."

"That she does," Sybil said. "We're going to go around back, so that I can introduce Tom to Edith and a few of her friends. She's just texted and told me where to find them."

Elsie turned to face Tom. "You've not met Edith? How is that possible?"

"She's always working," Sybil said. "And so is Tom."

"I don't mind the working bit - especially for you, Elsie," he insisted, winking at Elsie before she could formulate some kind of unnecessary apology. "And when I'm not working, I'm with Sybil."

"I never see Edith anymore," Sybil added. "We get on so well, despite anything Mary would tell you, and I've missed her."

"Then go on, you two lovebirds," Elsie said, shooing them away with her hands. "I can manage here on my own."

Elsie smiled after them as they left, arms around each other's waists; just as she turned around, a waiter appeared by her side with a tray.

"Champagne, ma'am?"

Elsie lifted a glass off the tray. "Don't mind if I do. Thank you."

She meandered through the garden paths for a while, having no desire to go into the house if all of the adults were outside. Stopping here and there to chat with a few friends, she eventually found herself at the edge of the back patio, standing by the railing and overlooking the gorgeous view that Robert and Cora had of LA. They were far enough away from the main parts of the city that the lights were visible but didn't interfere with the glorious sunset that she was now witnessing.

After a few moments, Elsie felt as though the very energy around her suddenly changed; the back of her neck tingled, and she closed her eyes to the sunset and blinked slowly, rubbing her neck for a moment before she took a deep breath, and turned around.

Sure enough, Charles Carson had just arrived at the party - or perhaps he'd just found his way to this quieter part of the property - and, as Elsie had suspected, he was staring right at her from across the vast patio.

The breath she was holding escaped her in one swift _whoosh,_ and her heart rate sped up. She'd spotted him peeking at her table in the restaurant a few days ago, but other than a couple of words at work, she'd not interacted with him much at all over the past week. She couldn't manage to move or wave or - heaven forbid if he should approach her - even _speak,_ but it didn't matter anyhow.

After several _very_ long seconds of having their gazes locked on one another's eyes, he turned around, deposited his empty glass on a passing waiter's tray, and walked away, leaving her staring hopelessly at his quickly-retreating back.

 **oOoOoOoOo**

Charles tugged at the collar of his tuxedo. It felt tight even though he'd just had it tailored, and he made a mental note not to help himself to _quite_ as many sweets from the catering cart on the studio set.

Of course, he did acknowledge that his physical discomfort was more to do with the fact that he simply didn't want to be at this party. He wasn't terribly friendly with many people working on the project yet, given his recent appearance on the scene, and as he scanned the crowd he wished (despite her many faults and their own marital struggles) that Alice had been able to attend. She was so much more established in Hollywood than he was, simply due to the fact she'd been filming projects in the States for years now; she was a master at mingling, meeting people, and keeping the flow of conversation positive no matter who the participants were.

But she wasn't there, and he felt a bit lost. He decided to walk around a bit and examine the property. He'd never been there at night, and only once during the day, and he was struck by the beauty of it all when it was decked out for a fête such as this. Taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and giving him a brief nod of thanks, he tried to find Violet, figuring he'd at least be able to maintain a decent, interesting conversation with _her._ But it was to no avail.

 _Perhaps she stayed home,_ he thought. _She can't abide these types of events, either._

He smiled to himself as he recalled the conversation they'd had over tea last week. Her observations about a number of the people involved in the film - people who would be hard-pressed to believe that Violet Crawley even knew they _existed_ \- were remarkable, and he appreciated her candid input.

 _Except for her advice about Elsie:_ "Work _with_ her, Carson, and not against her."

 _What is that supposed to mean?_ he'd thought at the time, but now he understood. And it was a lot to ask; too much, he knew, for the first couple of weeks. He'd been blindsided completely by Elsie's presence at the table when he'd arrived for his first staff meeting; ever since then, he'd felt he was a bit on the back foot. Robert had been apologetic, of course, but it didn't really matter.

 _It was years ago,_ Charles told himself as he swapped his empty glass for a full one, _and you are over sixty years old. You need to_ _ **let it go.**_

 _Easier said than done._

He meandered through the guests, nodding at a few whom he recognized, and eventually headed out to the quieter gardens out back that led to the patio. He sat and listened to the ensemble that was playing by the patio, lingering for a while as they played their way through a few of his favorite classical pieces. He stood up again after about fifteen minutes and headed toward the patio, thinking he'd like to take in the view of the sunset over the cit-

 _Oh._

His breath caught in his chest, and he was certain he'd felt an extra beat in there somewhere. He'd had that blasted dream the other night, the one that had been haunting him for the first time in decades, and as if she'd been conjured directly from it, he saw Elsie standing before him now.

But _she'd_ not seen _him_ yet; in fact, her back was to him, but he'd recognize her anywhere. Her size and confident stature were the same now as they'd been all those years ago: the curve of her neck and back, the flare of her hips. She'd clearly taken very good care of herself over the years, and he spared a thought for the husband she'd recently split with, wondering what it was that could ever make a man leave a woman like Elsie Hughes.

 _Well,_ he acknowledged wryly, _it's quite possible that_ _ **she**_ _left_ _ **him,**_ _isn't it?_

He watched as she put her glass down and leaned over the stone railing of the patio. The sun shifted; a cloud passed by, and suddenly the hair at her temple seemed almost aflame in the quickly-dying light.

Charles didn't know how long he stood staring at her - likely several minutes - but he knew the instant she'd felt his eyes upon her, saw her stiffen so minutely that she was quite possibly not even aware of it herself. Her hand came up to rub the back of her neck as she turned around.

Her eyes locked on his, and even though he couldn't see them, given the darkening night and his position far across the patio from where she stood, he could envision the precise shade of blue they were. They stood staring at one another for … well, he didn't know how long. It wasn't a challenge, but it wasn't comfortable. He thought for a second that it was more an assessment of one another, a sharing of a moment that no one else present would ever understand.

And she was _strikingly_ beautiful. His gaze flickered just slightly, so little that he knew she'd not have noticed it from where she stood, and his heart - which had been beating so rapidly up to that point - almost stopped in his chest.

 _The earrings._

Her deep, emerald-colored jade teardrop pendants, the ones he'd gifted to her on her twenty-first birthday, were sparkling in the little fairy lights that were wrapped around the railing upon which she'd just been leaning.

He was simply speechless; any plans he might have had of approaching her to say hello were immediately destroyed. There was no way he could speak to her now and pretend they didn't share a complicated, hurtful past, the proof of which was dangling from her ears.

He turned away from her, dropped his empty glass on some waiter's tray, and made his way back to the valet service. With any luck, his chauffeur would be close by, and he could make a clean getaway without having to run into Elsie again.

* * *

 **A/N #2:**

 **I know a lot of you read this chapter before; it was a chelsie-prompts reply that I linked on Tumblr and does appear in my Prompts story as well. That said, please don't feel that you need to review it again, although I hope you'll read it again as you've now got context from the rest of the story.**

 **I've set up a small Lights, Camera, Action! playlist on my Spotify (username: ChelsieSouloftheAbbey) that you can access with a free Spotify account. You could also just look up the song on YouTube. There will be a few songs for this fic that seem to describe Charles and Elsie's thoughts and feelings, but they're mostly background inspiration. I'll post them as they apply.**

 **Thanks to everyone for their reblogs and reviews. I appreciate your taking the time to do so. And a special shout-out to chelsie fan for her amazing beta work.**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**


	7. The Read-through

**A/N: Thank you for all of the amazing reviews! I'm really glad you're enjoying it, and I was touched that even though many of you had reviewed "Speechless" as a prompt, you also left a note on it here. I really love reading how you're guessing at what will happen (some of you are pretty dead accurate, FYI)!**

 **I especially want to thank those of you who've commented about the characters being "in character" according to their DA personalities. That's always my goal with a fic, but it's sometimes rather hard to pitch, and so those comments are particularly meaningful to me.**

 **Journeying forward - and back. Several people lamented not hearing Charles and Violet's conversation at the restaurant. You'll see a flashback of some of it here, as well as Charles and Elsie actually _speaking_ to one another. **

**Thanks again for all of your support. There's a ton of Chelsie AU fic out there, and it means a lot to me that you care about _this_ one. :)**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Friday, 16 September**_

Charles groaned as he got out of bed. Reaching for his robe with one hand and rubbing his temples with the other, he managed to drag himself into the bathroom and gobble down three aspirin before heading downstairs for some food and a strong cup of coffee.

He grabbed a banana first, lest his stomach kick out the meds before there was any food in there to balance them out. The peel carefully discarded in the trash, he downed the banana in four bites while popping the toast in and -

"What the hell?" he muttered.

"New toaster," came Alice's voice from the parlour. "The other one died last week, remember?"

"And just how does one actually toast a normal piece of bread?" he asked. "I see bagel, muffin … no setting for plain bread?"

"You pop it in and don't press any of the buttons, Charles. Just push the lever down."

He did as instructed without further question, mostly because he wanted to put a stop to any activity that fell under the categories of _talking_ and _listening._

God, his head hurt.

 _It might have something to do with the bottle of Scotch,_ he reminded himself, glancing over to where it lay empty beside the sink.

Charles stood and stared at the coffee press as the hot water did its magic. He wasn't really focused on the coffee itself, though, but rather the events leading up to the consumption of the Scotch ...

Thinking back, he realized that it all started two weeks ago when Alice had arrived as planned to pick him up at Beryl's café; circumstances being what they had been, the spot he and Violet usually patronized had been closed due to a water pressure issue, and so he'd taken Violet to Beryl's instead. They'd been there before, and she'd enjoyed it well enough that it had seemed a safe choice.

And then he'd seen Elsie, and the entirely pleasant time he'd been having with Violet had suddenly crumbled into a pile of discomfort.

Violet had noticed, of course …

" _Carson? Whatever is the matter?"_

 _Charles smiled at her. "You know, you're the only one who still calls me that. Everyone else dropped it when I stopped playing with the cricket league fifteen years ago."_

" _And you're trying to divert my attention," Violet retorted. "What is it?"_

 _He looked at her sheepishly. "Nothing."_

" _Charles Carson, I've known you since you were nineteen years of age. What in the world makes you think I can't tell when you are lying?"_

 _Charles lifted his chin, a bit of defiance mixed into his affection for the woman seated before him._

" _Nothing I wish to discuss," he amended._

 _Violet raised her eyebrows at him; clearly, she was not used to anyone refusing to answer her questions. "I see. I don't suppose it's anything to do with the fact that Elsie Hughes spends every Saturday afternoon here?"_

 _His eyes widened. "That's … that's not why I brought you here," he sputtered._

" _No," Violet smirked, "I didn't think it was. But she's clearly distracting you."_

 _Charles drummed his fingers on the table._

" _Well," Violet said, wiping the corner of her mouth with her napkin, "if you don't wish to confide in me, fine."_

 _She paused, waiting for Charles to meet her gaze._

" _But please confide in_ _ **someone,**_ _Carson. You're not yourself when she's around, and soon others will start to notice."_

" _And how can I be?" he whispered, clearly pained. "She's clearly put it all behind her. And yet when I saw her in that meeting - completely blindsided by that, by the way, no thanks to any of you - it was like I was looking at a ghost."_

 _Violet spared a moment to consider his words._

" _I know," she said, more gently now. "And I apologize. I truly did think Robert had informed you that she was producing."_

 _She saw Charles glance over her shoulder at what she presumed was Elsie's table._

" _But if it's going to affect your work, Carson …"_

" _It won't." He returned his full attention to Violet. "You know me better than that."_

" _And what of Alice? Is_ _ **she**_ _going to affect your ability to work?"_

 _Charles reached for the bill, but Violet snatched it up first, tucked some money inside the folder, and held it out for a passing server to take before Charles could argue._

" _Thank you," he said with a small nod._

" _You're welcome. Is she?"_

 _Charles smiled; Violet certainly was persistent, he had to give her that._

" _No, she isn't. Besides, she's got an audition tomorrow anyhow, and two more later on this week, so she won't even be around much."_

" _Perhaps that's for the best," Violet said._

 _As Violet finished her tea, Charles left to use the restroom; when he returned, he noted that Elsie and Anna had left._

 _He offered his arm to Violet, who was clearly ready to leave; she took it gratefully as she stood, appreciating the attentiveness he'd always exhibited._

" _I think your wife stifles you, Carson."_

" _So you've told me multiple times before," he reminded her, and she laughed a bit as they made their way to her waiting car. Charles looked around but didn't spot Alice's car yet; she'd been a bit annoyed about having to change where she'd be picking him up, but he knew she'd be there soon._

" _And so I will continue to tell you," Violet said as Charles assisted her into the back of the car._

 _Violet looked up at him, her eyes piercing him._

" _I would support you if you made a change in that department, Charles," she said, and he noted the name change and took it for what it was worth - a means of affection from the woman whom he'd thought of almost as a mother these past many years. "The_ _ **family**_ _would support you."_

" _I'll keep that in mind," he said kindly. "And I appreciate it more than you know."_

 _Just then, Alice's car pulled in, and Charles stood back and closed Violet's door._

And from the moment he'd gotten into the convertible, that day had gone downhill. He'd felt guilty about not confiding in Violet regarding his pursuit of a divorce, even though she'd mentioned the name of the mediator in passing over a year ago regarding a separate situation. That guilt had plagued him for the past couple of weeks; along with the dreams, and his encounter with Elsie at the party, everything had built up until he and Alice had ended up in an uncharacteristic shouting match last night over foolish things that he could barely recall even now ...

The smell of overly-toasted bread brought him back to the present; swearing softly, he rescued his breakfast from the confounded machine before it burned completely.

"Bit dark, that," Alice chuckled from the doorway. "Try setting it on three next time. The new ones are a bit more efficient."

"Thanks." Charles buttered the toast liberally and slathered on some jam. He poured his coffee and took the cup and plate out onto the balcony, brushing by Alice and leaving her standing in the kitchen doorway.

She fumed for a moment, staring at his retreating form, before eventually following him out.

 _Not even a 'good morning!'_

"I really don't feel well, and I'm not up for another argument," he warned her.

"I'm not here to argue any more, Charles," she said. "I just wanted to tell you I'll be late tonight, and likely tomorrow, so you'll need to call for a car from the studio when you're done."

"Fine." He sipped his coffee, staring out over the railing to the rooftops below.

Alice sighed. "You've posted the papers to the mediator, then?"

"Yes. They should arrive by Wednesday at the latest, and then we wait."

Alice walked over to the edge of the balcony, laying her hands on the railing and tipping her head back as a soft breeze caught her hair.

Charles watched her, smiling a bit as he contemplated her comfort here.

"You look nice today," he said aloud, and Alice turned and smiled at him.

"Thanks."

"New dress?"

"Mm," she nodded, brushing a wrinkle out of the bodice. "Fits the character, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Was lovely to have the call back."

"Good luck," Charles told her, and he meant it.

"Thanks," she said again, checking her watch. "All right, I'm out."

She ran her fingers through his messy hair as she passed by him, but she didn't stop to bend down for a kiss.

It was just as well.

Charles sat back and took a couple sips of coffee. The sun began bouncing off of the rooftops and trees, and he looked around a bit and sighed.

 _God, I hate this view,_ he thought. _Nothing but buildings and the sound of the traffic below. How on earth did I pretend to enjoy it all this time?_

His headache diminished from the aspirin/food/caffeine combination, he headed inside to prepare for his day.

 _The read-through,_ he thought as he climbed into the shower. _Full cast, half of the crew … and the executive producer._

With a deep breath, he turned on the water.

 _Let's do this._

 **oOoOoOoOo**

Charles arrived at the studio at the same time as Elsie. He couldn't believe his luck … or lack thereof, perhaps.

"Good morning!" she greeted him cheerfully. "Are you ready?"

"I think so," he said cautiously as they approached the gate and were waved in by the guard. "You're awfully chipper today." Somehow they'd not seen one another since the uncomfortable experience at Cora and Robert's party, and he was wary.

"I love read-through days," Elsie told him, seemingly fine with how things were between them. "They're laid-back, and they give us a good feel for where we need to tighten up the script. And it's a nice way for the cast to get to know each other, I think. Most of them won't be in the same scenes very often, particularly the cast playing the family. There are few ensemble scenes and almost none where they interact with the downstairs characters."

They walked down the road to the assigned building.

"Astute observation," he said.

"Will you be here for the whole day?" Elsie asked. She was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable being alone with Charles; ever since the party and the little experience at the café, she was a bit wary. She wasn't sure, but she thought she preferred it when he wasn't paying her any attention at all unless he had to.

 _That will change today,_ she reminded herself. _We can't avoid one another anymore._

"I think so, yes. Lots of details to work out on our end as well."

They entered the room where the read-throughs were to take place, and a cacophony of sound met their ears.

Elsie made her way to Cora, who hugged her enthusiastically, and then meandered through the room, making sure to greet each of the actors in turn. She'd never met two of them before, but was pleased to see that most seemed to have at least one friend in the room already. It wasn't surprising, given the type of production it was; despite the attempt not to be typecast, it was not that unusual to see a sea of familiar faces for a documentary or period-set drama.

After everyone had caught up, snapped Instagram pictures, gotten drinks, and found their seats, Elsie made her way to one of the crew tables. In addition to the script, she and Thomas, Charles, Joseph Molesley, and a few others also had copies of notes regarding staging, lighting, and more.

The first hour went smoothly, with Elsie making a few additional notes as they went along. She was happy to see Charles and Joseph working closely together; Charles wasn't the most patient of men at times, but Joseph was deferring to his expertise on some things and offering up sensible solutions to potential issues as well.

She was rather proud of _herself_ for managing to discuss a few things with Charles, too. She had a sense that they'd gotten through the initial awkwardness and would finally be able to work well together; as the historical advisor, he'd have a good amount of input regarding decisions she was making - certain shots, some of the edits, and general questions of making the production as a whole look authentic and classy.

They broke after two hours, and Elsie went to get a cup of tea.

"Things are going well, I think."

She turned to see Thomas Barrow beside her and offered him the milk pitcher, which he refused.

"They are. If the rest of the day goes _this_ well, I'll be happy."

Thomas stirred some sugar into his tea. "Mary could be better," he said quietly. "You'd think she'd be rather adept at acting the part of the daughter given that Cora's playing her mother. Not looking forward to _that_ battle, though."

Elsie smiled sympathetically. "I don't blame you there. What do you think of the others?"

"They're all better than _she_ is," Thomas said waspishly. "And that's the problem, because she fancies herself the star."

"She _is_ the central character," Elsie pointed out.

"Hmph."

She pondered him for a moment. "Who's your favorite, Thomas?"

But Thomas shook his head and smiled. "Oh, no. Too early for that yet."

"Fair enough. Perhaps tomorrow?"

He just stared at her incredulously, and she laughed as she made her way back to her seat.

 **oOoOoOoOo**

From across the room, Phyllis noticed Joseph still seated at his table, furiously making notes on his sheet and glancing about as if in fear of something - or _someone,_ she assumed - approaching.

She made him a cup of tea, took a deep breath, and headed over to his table, taking Charles's seat when she arrived.

To his credit, Joseph remained entirely calm as she sat and placed the tea before him. He peered into the cup and looked over at her slowly, a bit of disbelief on his face.

"How'd you know that's _exactly_ what I needed?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.

Phyllis smiled at him. "Because you've been at it all morning, just like the rest of us. You need to get out of your seat for a bit - stretch, walk about, maybe use the loo? It's going to be a long while until we're finished here."

"I know," he admitted, "and I will in a moment. I just need to get this _exactly_ right …" He scratched something out in his notes, drew an arrow to another part of the script, and added something new.

"Is it hard, working with him?"

Joseph looked up, and then followed Phyllis's gaze over to where Charles stood chatting with Cora and Mary.

"Not hard, no. He's not difficult, exactly, he's just …" He faltered, unable to come up with the correct word.

"Confident?" Phyllis supplied.

Joseph nodded gratefully. "Yes, that's it, I suppose. Confident. And _knowledgeable!_ Oh, the things that man knows about _everything!_ I don't even _have_ half the things he's mentioned. Special bouillon spoon here, certain pattern of dinnerware there. Things like measurements of how far people should be seated from the table, where the candles are to be placed … We have a lot of props, but they're not all _accurate_ enough."

Joe fell back in his chair and tossed the pen on the table, frustrated; Phyllis gently pushed his teacup and saucer toward him, and he smiled sheepishly and took a tentative sip of the steaming liquid.

"Ohhh," he murmured, "that's perfect."

Phyllis blushed a bit and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Joseph," she asked quietly, glancing around to be sure they were still alone, "are you free this evening?"

He choked on the tea, placing the cup back on the saucer with a slightly shaking hand.

"Free?" he squeaked.

"Yes," she smiled. "Free. For dinner, perhaps? And then, we could maybe hit some of the old props standbys … perhaps see if we can't find you some proper bouillon spoons? But only if you want," she added breathlessly.

"Oh, I want!" he uttered. "I mean … Yes, Phyllis, I'd love to. Just ... nothing too adventuresome in the food department, please."

Charles was returning to his seat, and Phyllis stood as Joseph finished his thought.

"I'm not sure my stomach could take it," he added quietly.

Phyllis reached out and patted his shoulder.

"See you at six," she said. "I'll be at Robert's office."

"See you then," he whispered, his face plastered with the biggest smile he could muster.

"All right, then, Joseph?" Charles asked, smirking at the exchange he just witnessed.

"I think so, Mr. Carson," Joseph managed.

"Charles."

"Right, Mr. Carson. I mean, right, Charles," Joseph said, his attention clearly still on the retreating form of Phyllis Baxter.

Charles leaned in and whispered into Joseph's ear, "You're hers at six, from what I gather. For now, though, let's see if we can get you a bit more focused on the task at hand."

Elsie watched the entire exchange from across the room. She was certain that Phyllis had _finally_ managed to get a date with their set and props manager, which made Elsie very happy, indeed. They were both kind people, and she felt they deserved a bit of happiness. But what intrigued her most was watching Charles interact with Joseph; he was kind and patient, offering suggestions and, at times, insisting upon certain details that would make the entire production better.

Charles felt her eyes upon him and looked up suddenly; caught out, Elsie gave him a slight nod of her head and returned his gaze until he looked away. He wasn't sure if it was praise in that nod or something else, but it confounded him a bit that he was concerned about it at all.

From that point forward, it was no longer Joseph Molesley who had trouble focusing on the read-through.

* * *

 **Would love to know what you all think! xx**


	8. Dinner

**A/N: Hey, guys! Thanks for the lovely reviews on the last chapter. I think I had a chance to reply to everyone. :) Shout-out to the guest reviewers to whom I cannot reply directly.**

 **This is a longer chapter, but I think you'll enjoy it. My thanks to chelsie fan for her amazing beta work.**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, 4 October**_

The last week of September had been fraught with activity. Set designers had been working overtime to accommodate Charles's suggestions, with everything from paint color to table linens having been tweaked. Joseph had settled into what he felt was a better working relationship with the historical advisor, and he'd been speaking up and offering suggestions, many of which Charles had wholeheartedly supported.

The actors had also been extremely busy, and the full cast included almost twenty people with speaking roles in the film project. Having written the docudrama based upon a real-life family living in an English manor house, Robert had certainly done his homework; the family he'd chosen as the basis for his cast (the Granthams, an historically prominent family living in Yorkshire at the turn of the century) had seen it all, from the sinking of the Titanic to soldiers sent to war, with the influence of politics and culture disrupting everyone's lives both upstairs and down.

Mary and Cora, playing on-screen daughter and mother, had spent a good deal of time rehearsing scenes together. They had several scenes between them with no other actors, as one of the main focal points of the film was the role of _women_ in estate houses at the beginning of the twentieth century. There were also underlying themes of women's independence, suffrage, even of titled women who chose to work outside of the home, and Cora and Mary had been forced to learn quite a bit of history in order to properly form their respective characters' identities.

The first day of actual filming was the third of October - a Monday. The crew started with a small scene involving Mary and Cora's characters. They continued into Tuesday, when they tackled a scene involving the family's father and the butler and also one with the family's dog (who was actually Cora and Robert's own dog, brought in with the hopes that she would be well-trained enough to follow Cora and Mary's instruction without fail).

By the time the luncheon caterers rolled in on that second day, though, Thomas had already seen enough to send him teetering at the edge of his patience. He spotted Elsie alone at the catering cart and sidled up alongside her.

"She can't bloody well _act,"_ he quietly seethed to Elsie. "I don't mean to sound the prima donna myself, but how did she ever _get_ this role? I know it wasn't Robert's influence, because he recused himself from that entire process."

"She auditioned well," Elsie insisted. "Charles was with her and gave her a few pointers, to be sure, but she does have some talent."

"You were at her audition? Do you go to all of them?" He was genuinely curious. He knew Elsie had been responsible for bringing him to the table as director, but he wasn't sure how much of a producer's other jobs she actually did herself; most people he'd worked with in the past would pawn the time-consuming things onto other people.

"As many as I can," Elsie confirmed. "But I wasn't at hers. I've watched the tape several times, though."

"You've watched her audition tape? _Why?"_ His brow furrowed, but he was genuinely curious.

Elsie smiled. "Sometimes an actor gives you an absolute gem of a look, or a smile, or a quote - something you can use later on, something candid and ... well, beautiful. Behind-the-scenes clips are well-loved by viewers, and sometimes the publicist will use those things as well. You never know when there could be something in there that would be beneficial for us all in the long run."

Thomas raised his glass to Elsie and gave her a sly smirk. "True," he acknowledged. "You know, you're quite the plotter, Elsie Hughes."

"It's a skill all women must learn, Thomas," she laughed. "Listen … some of us are going out for dinner tonight, and Robert asked me to invite you along. Would you consider it? I think Charles will be there; it might give you a chance to discuss your concerns with him before it's too late, or at least to start along that path."

"Mary won't be there?"

Elsie shook her head. "No; it'll be myself, Robert and Cora, Charles … and possibly John and Anna Bates, although I doubt it."

"John doesn't drink," Thomas remarked. "I've noticed that."

"No," Elsie agreed, "he doesn't. But it's not a pub crawl, Thomas, it's just dinner. I maintain that it would be good for you to be there. Some business, some pleasure, and I'm fairly certain we've all got to _eat."_

"I don't know," he hedged.

Elsie reached out and touched his arm lightly. "You _wanted_ to direct this film, Thomas. You're a key player. Keep your foot in the door even if it makes you uncomfortable. You're doing a fine job, I don't mind telling you."

He looked at her with wary eyes. "You really think so?"

"I do," she insisted.

"I feel like the outsider," he said quietly, ever-mindful of the people milling about.

 _Of course he does,_ Elsie admonished herself, and she wasn't sure how she hadn't thought of that before. She, Robert, Cora, and Charles went back decades; John and Robert had been friends for ages, and Violet knew them all to some extent. Thomas was, indeed, the dark horse of the group. A relative newcomer to the world of directing, he was doing a good job even if he lacked some of the finesse of the 'old-timers' like herself and Charles, but he could use a boost of confidence, she supposed. She remembered those early days well.

"You just need a good, solid production behind you," she said aloud. "Come to dinner. Talk or don't, it'll be up to you. But show your face, show that you're interested in being part of the team."

"Thank you," Thomas replied. "I've not got many friends here, but I do feel that I can take you at your word, Elsie."

"You can," she smiled, and they returned to their seats.

 **oOoOoOoOo**

When Robert announced they'd be going to the Wolfgang Puck Restaurant at the Hotel Bel-Air*, Thomas decided he'd better go home and change his clothing before meeting them there; it wouldn't do to be showing up sloppy at dinner with the man bankrolling the film – the project that Thomas hoped would _finally_ get his name out there as an accomplished director.

He was the second-to-last to arrive due to his detour home and he despised being late, but as Elsie's car pulled in right behind his, he figured he'd be fine.

Thomas watched her get out of the limo and saw that she was now in a stunning blue dress; he was extra glad that he'd gone home to shower and don a pristine suit and tie. His own limo pulled away, and he waited for Elsie to catch up to him.

"You scrub up nicely," he commented.

"Thank you - "

Elsie stumbled, and Thomas turned just in time to see her catch her balance before she fell.

"That was close," she managed, her voice shaky.

Thomas looked long and hard at her and noticed that her color seemed a bit off. "Elsie … are you well?"

But she smiled a bit, which eased his mind. "I'm fine," she said. "Just clumsy, I'm afraid."

"It's been a _very_ long day," Thomas allowed.

"It has. I always forget how old I am until I start a new project," she said with a chuckle, "and then it _all_ comes back."

"Hogwash," Thomas said, offering her his arm to escort her inside. "Allow me to see you in unscathed, and we'll see about getting a stiff alcoholic beverage into you. That'll help ... well, perhaps."

Her laughter was almost musical, and Thomas was intrigued by how, despite her self-proclaimed clumsiness, she always seemed so easy-going no matter _where_ they were.

That assessment changed, however, the minute they were shown to their table; he felt Elsie's hand stiffen slightly on his arm just before she slipped it out of his light grasp, and as he looked up, he saw Charles Carson's eyes upon her.

 _Well, well, well,_ he thought. _I wonder what_ _ **that's**_ _about._

It unnerved Thomas a bit, because he held Elsie in a bit higher regard than the rest of them. And since she'd been doing nothing but sing Charles's praises to Thomas for the past several days, it was quite peculiar, indeed, that she'd feel so uncomfortable around the man himself.

As the night wore on, however, her discomfort seemed to slip away. Toward the end of the dinner, and after a few decent drinks, Thomas wondered if perhaps he'd imagined the entire thing.

 **oOoOoOoOo**

Elsie had taken Thomas's arm with a soft laugh and a nod to his silly sense of chivalry. He was such the odd man out in the production, and she was well aware that the others - except, perhaps, for Robert - were a bit leery of him in general. If they had been anywhere but modern-day Hollywood, she'd have thought it was his sexuality that was the problem, but these days no one cared about that anymore … at least, not anyone whom Elsie knew personally.

 _Not even Charles,_ she'd thought with an inward smile, _and he's probably_ _ **still**_ _the most archaic of us all!_

She had glanced down at the dress she'd chosen, wondering if it was too over-the-top, but Thomas had complimented her on it; she felt he'd have made a crack if it were too extravagant.

And she did love it. It had been an impulse buy a couple of weeks prior, and the soft navy fabric fell nicely around her hips and legs. The bodice was a bit simple but fitted, and the dress came with a short jacket to which she'd affixed a simple, silver pin that had been a gift from her mother. Silver purse to match, along with heels the color of the dress, and she was good to go ...

… until they walked out onto the terrace and she noticed Charles staring slightly open-mouthed at her from across the table.

He and Robert politely stood as she entered the area with Thomas, but that intense look from Charles made her a bit uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she made her way to the seat next to Cora, noting belatedly that the round table was set for only five.

"No John and Anna, then?" she said, stating the obvious.

"No. Anna wasn't feeling well," Robert replied, "and John wanted to head home to spend some time with her."

Elsie knew precisely why Anna wasn't well, but she wasn't at liberty to share that information yet and so she simply nodded and feigned a bit of sadness.

"Poor Anna," Cora murmured to Elsie. "I fear we worked her half to death preparing for that huge party we had - and dealing with the aftermath."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Elsie replied in an attempt to reassure her. "She likely just needs a good night cuddled up with her husband."

"Quite right." Cora's eyes flicked to Robert for an instant before turning back to Elsie. "Sometimes there's nothing better, you know?"

Cora realized a moment too late what she'd said, but when she opened her mouth to apologize, Elsie beat her to it and silenced her.

"Don't, Cora. Please. You and Robert have a lovely marriage, and you should be _proud_ to discuss it. It's no bother to me to see you two happy."

The waiter informed them of a few specials and handed menus to each guest, then left them to peruse the information.

"There's a chef's selection of four or six courses that's always good," Robert informed everyone, "but given the lateness of the hour it may be better to simply order straight from the menu. Charles, would you mind doing the honors?"

Charles looked up as Robert handed him a rather large binder.

"Not at all," Charles said quietly, smiling.

Thomas's eyes widened. "Is that the _wine_ list?"

"It is. There are over two thousand wines in this particular cellar," Charles told him.

Thomas whistled lowly. "Wow. That's impressive."

"Wine is his favorite hobby," Robert said, smiling at Thomas but nodding in Charles's direction. "Charles is our resident enthusiast; should have been a grand sommelier, but the theatre nabbed him instead."

"None of that, thank you," Charles said, a warning in his voice.

Cora just laughed. "Come on, Charles. It was a lovely time."

Elsie took pity on Thomas, who was clearly not following.

"Back when we were all at Uni, Charles spent a bit of time on the stage," she explained. "He was quite good."

"A theatre background, then?" Thomas's opinion of the man went up a bit; he'd not have expected that, not given the persona that Charles portrayed now, anyhow. "No kidding."

"No kidding," Charles confirmed with a smirk and a quirk of the eyebrow. "But I wouldn't mind forgetting all about that, sometimes."

He had a wistful look about him as he went back to reading the wine list, something that Thomas filed away for later.

The waiter came by then and everyone ordered; at Robert's request, Charles chose both a red and a white wine from the list. Table discussion then immediately turned to the day's filming.

"Rough day for poor Mary," Cora said honestly. "I hope she's not catching what Anna has."

Elsie almost choked on her wine. _Now_ _ **that**_ _would be something!_

"I'm sure she's just working out some character bits," Charles said kindly. "She'll look to you to lead her through some of those things, Cora."

Cora sighed. "I know. But it's hard because I'm not sure she'd welcome much _direct_ advice - not from me, anyhow," she observed. "I _am_ still her mother, and of all my girls, Mary was always the most headstrong."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Robert chuckled. "Look at where Edith is!"

"And Sybil," Elsie smiled. "She's found her niche at the hospital, I think."

Robert wrinkled up his nose. "I wish she weren't at County, though. What's wrong with Sinai?"

"It's not what _she_ wants, Robert," Cora replied. "That's not who Sybil _is._ She's the champion of the underdog and the marginalized! She adores her work, and she's quite good at it. Besides, Isobel's there now, and Sybil really enjoys working with her."

"Your daughters have a variety of interests; there's nothing wrong with that," Charles added. "And they're all good at their chosen professions."

"What say you, Thomas?" Robert asked, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject given that he was mercilessly losing the argument about his own daughters. "You're the director. How was the first day in front of the camera?"

Thomas's eyes widened a bit, and a glance at Elsie showed his nervousness; her slight nod encouraged him, though, and he answered as diplomatically as he could.

"It was a rough start in some areas," he said, and with a hopeful look at Charles, he added, "but we can discuss some of that later, perhaps?"

"Of course," Charles replied. "It always takes a bit for people to find themselves once everything becomes real. Wouldn't you say so, Elsie?"

She looked up and found Charles staring at her peculiarly.

"I … I would," she replied slowly, completely unsure as to whether he was referring to the day's filming or something else altogether.

The server returned with some glasses of water, interrupting just enough to shift the conversation to other things. Elsie glanced around the table: Thomas to her left, then Charles, Robert, and Cora. In all honesty, a rather easy-going crew despite Thomas's discomfort at being the newcomer.

As the dinner progressed and the wine flowed, everyone became a bit more relaxed. Elsie caught Charles staring at her occasionally, but quick glances at Thomas, Cora, and Robert reassured her that no one else had noticed anything out of the ordinary. She was uncomfortable the first couple of times she caught him out, but then she wondered if it meant nothing more than his being curious about her; they'd not really spent much time catching up, and they most definitely hadn't rehashed the past since being unceremoniously thrown together again on the project. But she acknowledged that since _she'd_ had some wonderings about Charles and Alice, then perhaps _he_ was curious about _her,_ too.

 **oOoOoOoOo**

Throughout the entire dinner experience, Charles became less and less happy that he'd agreed to join them. The day had been trying, indeed. He was no fool; Mary's performance before the camera had been less than stellar, much different from her audition or the other things she'd worked on in the past, and as her agent, friend, and (perhaps not least) her godfather, he had a responsibility to get to the bottom of that _soon._ It would be an uncomfortable conversation, indeed, but perhaps she'd take criticism better from him than from anyone else.

 _Certainly better than from Cora,_ he thought.

And then there was Elsie. Charles was embarrassed at his inability to keep his eyes off of her; he'd been a complete fool to think he would be able to ignore her, to treat her just like everyone else. While he'd managed to keep from embarrassing himself at Cora and Robert's party ( _You were a coward,_ he told himself), he was finding it harder and harder to do so now.

Charles chose to focus on speaking to Thomas; even Charles had to admit the man was knowledgeable about his job, and Thomas had good suggestions regarding what would be a team approach to dealing with Mary. Charles also reminded himself that, for the foreseeable future, he was married and had no business giving another woman - particularly one who'd once made it quite clear she wanted nothing to do with him - undue attention.

And, of course, Elsie didn't necessarily _like_ him. She'd warmed a bit since their frosty reconnection at the planning meeting in Robert's board room, but things were still a bit awkward between them most of the time. But they were professionals, and by unspoken agreement, they would get on as such. He had his own life (such as it was turning out to be), and she clearly had hers; the past was, he reminded himself more than once, over thirty years ago. Elsie seemed happy with her choices, comfortable with her life, and completely unwilling to share anything more than cursory greetings and professional words with him.

All of that had been fine with Charles, truly, because he felt the same. He _was_ intrigued by how she'd changed over the years, but he chalked that up to the fact that few people really got to _know_ Elsie at all - at least, not back then. He quickly learned that her confidence was still at the forefront of her personality, but she'd learned to temper it somewhat. She was brilliant regarding her field of work and had already shown herself capable of not only mastering the production needs of the project but also helping others (like Thomas, and Charles suspected Joseph as well) to find creative solutions to problems when they'd arisen.

And it certainly wasn't an understatement that she was still beautiful, only now the beauty she'd had in her youth was enhanced by a soft maturity.

He was fine dealing with it all, he told himself. And he believed that was true … until the dessert menu came.

The waiter brought the small cards around, handing one to each guest, and everyone chuckled at Robert's exuberance at the thought of being allowed to indulge. Cora had been lightening up on him a bit as his health continued to improve, and his enthusiasm was infectious. Everyone was laughing and joking, and then _oohing_ and _aahing_ over the menu. The mood was light, and the end to what had begun as a slightly awkward gathering was near.

It was odd, therefore, that it would be something so seemingly innocuous that would send Charles teetering at the edge of _Elsie_ once again.

He had looked up just as she'd pulled out her reading glasses and perched them atop her nose. They were a dark shade of burgundy, which he knew immediately would be a stark contrast to the beautiful, deep blue of her eyes.

Charles stared at her as she scanned the offerings, and watched as she leaned over and consulted with Cora about one of the choices.

And then Elsie looked up, glasses near the tip of her nose, and caught Charles staring at her once again. She furrowed her eyebrows a bit, and his shot up in response. The atmosphere was suddenly charged with something that they dared not define nor acknowledge.

The moment lasted but a second or two before Elsie pulled her eyes away and fiddled with the menu. She was flustered, no doubt about that, but a quick scan of the rest of the party showed Charles that Thomas, Cora, and Robert were distracted by other things.

And it didn't matter, because in those brief seconds Charles felt all rationality crumble instantly. Elsie's beautiful, dark hair, the way her deep blue eyes were staring at him over the frames of her glasses, the few wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth (clearly from many years of smiling and laughter and not just borne of frustration or struggle) and the gentle manner she had with everyone at the table … all of those details added up only served to highlight the obvious, which Charles realized he'd been fighting for days – _weeks,_ perhaps.

 _Damn it all to_ _hell._

He was in love with her. Again.

 _Or,_ he acknowledged to himself, _perhaps …_ _ **still.**_

 **oOoOoOoOo**

Elsie looked up at Charles from underneath her eyelashes and then tilted her head back slightly, her gaze traveling over the tops of her readers and landing on his deep, beautiful hazel eyes that were staring at her _so_ intently that she suddenly lost the ability to breathe.

 _Oh, no,_ she thought instantly. _He can't!_

There was no way - _no way_ \- that she wanted to see in his eyes what she saw in them now. It was a look with which she was very familiar - _intimately_ familiar, indeed. Charles was usually so good at hiding his emotions; he had always been skilled in that regard, but rarely with her. She could read him as easily now as she could all those years ago. It wasn't a burning, passionate love that she saw in his eyes – _not yet,_ she thought - but it was enough to send her reeling; it was written all over his face, and she could see that he was as surprised and horrified by it as she.

The moment lasted only seconds, and both Elsie and Charles managed to pull themselves together enough to make it through dessert and Robert's paying of the bill. They all left together, cars lined up by the curb, and Elsie noted that Charles got into Robert and Cora's limo.

 _Alice must be out of town,_ she thought as Tom closed the door of her own limousine.

And then, as though Providentially summoned, the object of Elsie's musings suddenly appeared in the doorway of the hotel itself, shocking Elsie to her core.

She lowered the window just to be sure but, yes, that was indeed Alice Carson …

… leaving the hotel, and being followed shortly thereafter by a man. At first, Elsie thought it a coincidence. But when Alice turned and looked at him over her shoulder and gave the smallest of waves with her hand, Elsie's heart sank with despair for Charles.

But the strangest part of all was that Elsie _knew_ the man. She recognized his face from … well, somewhere. She racked her brain but couldn't come up with his name ...

 _At least,_ she thought, _not yet. But I will._

 _But what to do?_ She decided in an instant to do nothing at all. What could she say? She and Charles weren't precisely friends, certainly not good enough friends for a conversation like that, and Cora was already saying things about how Elsie and Charles looked so good working together again …and then there was that look in his eyes over the dinner table.

 _No. You say nothing, Elsie._

And so, until she had more information, she promised herself she wouldn't.

* * *

 ***Hotel Bel-Air - real place, real restaurant. Thanks to SS and her awesome knowledge that makes this fic realistic in terms of locale.**

 **Ta-da! Now we are getting somewhere, perhaps. Hoping you'll leave a word or two of review. I'm working on a special project at the moment, but will see you all again with a new update in a couple of days! xxx**


	9. Moving Forward

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for the continued love and support. I'm sorry this is a bit late, but I was having too much fun visiting Misty Cove again for yesterday's adventure. But back to LA tonight!  
No Chelsie here - I'm so sorry - but this is an important chapter for Charles. **

**Thanks to all for the lovely reviews - they really do keep me going. And thanks to chelsie fan for amazing beta work. xxx**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Monday, 24 October**_

Charles and Alice sat at a table for four, tucked in the back of the same Mom's Pub that Robert had brought Charles to when he'd first arrived in LA. They had chosen it because no one they knew frequented the place, lessening their chances of being found out. Alice, quite respectful of Charles's request to keep their pending divorce out of the papers for the time being, had chosen to dress down for the meeting: old jeans and trainers, a baggy t-shirt, and a wrap for her hair. It all combined to make a rather unglamorous outfit, but Charles couldn't help but observe how beautiful she still looked. It rather reminded him of their earliest days, when Alice dressed for her own comfort and not for any paparazzi that might be hiding around every corner; he did doubt any of them would recognize her if they saw her now.

The door opened, and Charles peeked over his wife's shoulder to see the man who'd just entered; standing, he moved around the table and extended his hand.

"Mr. Blake, good to see you."

"Likewise," the man acknowledged, reaching to shake Charles's hand, and Alice turned to hold hers out as well.

"Alice," she said simply, and Blake nodded.

"I remember." His easy-going, affable nature instantly put her at ease. "We've met before, I think."

Alice took a moment to think about it as Blake glanced at the tabletop, spying their glasses of wine and beer, and flagged the waitress over to order his own drink. As soon as she left, Alice spoke.

"That's right! The party at the Spencers' place. God, I'd forgotten all about that; it was eons ago!"

Charles just sat quietly, watching Blake as he pulled a file out of his bag. He knew who the Spencers were, and he disliked them immensely. All he could think of at that moment was how grateful he was that he'd not been at that party _himself._

"You didn't say you'd met before," he said to Blake.

Blake looked up at him and smiled. "Soul of discretion," he replied with a wink. "Makes me good at my job. That connection is how I know Violet, too, and why she recommended me."

Charles raised his eyebrows, acknowledging the truth in the words; everyone knew the Spencers had divorced early last year.

Blake laughed. "To be perfectly honest, I didn't know it was the same Alice until I saw her name on the paperwork." He looked around. "You've chosen a good spot; this seems rather dead at the moment."

"No one in Hollywood eats at four," Alice pointed out with a laugh. "They're either filming, preparing to go out, or just getting up from last night's party."

Blake looked over at her and smiled charmingly. "How very true."

Charles and Alice waited patiently as the waitress dropped off Blake's martini. After she left, Blake withdrew a folder from his briefcase and spread its contents out.

"This is the entirety of what I presented at your discovery hearing.*" He selected one form from the pile. "This one is your Marital Settlement Agreement. It outlines the division of assets and terms of your separation; everything you submitted to me at our last meeting, Charles, is on this form. The judge had no reservations about any of it." Blake looked them both in the eye. "He applauded you, actually. Said he was rather impressed that such a high-profile divorce was moving along in such a positive way. We don't see much of that around here, I can assure you."

Charles sipped his ale, thoughtful as he perused the forms. It was a mixed bag of emotions he was feeling, and he could tell from Alice's tense demeanor that she was experiencing the same. He looked over at her.

"It feels rather _real_ now, doesn't it?"

She smiled half-heartedly and nodded. "It does. It's _strange."_

Blake looked at them both, then advised, "That's not unusual; I see it in almost every mediation case I have."

They looked over at him, curious.

"You don't _hate_ each other," Blake continued, smiling gently. "That's why you're here with me and not standing behind lawyers having it out over months of contentious court hearings. You've been married for over half your lives. You still seem to have some respect for one another, and I'd wager you still care a great deal for one another's well-being."

He tilted his head as he looked from Charles to Alice and back again. "It's more common than you'd think. You're dissolving the business of your marriage, the intimate tie of it, yet you still care for one another as friends. But it is an ending, and it's often sad for both parties despite being what you truly want."

"I suppose it just feels odd wanting something that has some sadness attached," Charles said thoughtfully. "It's the right thing for both of us - we're agreed on that - but …"

Alice reached over and squeezed his hand.

"It _is_ the right decision," she agreed softly. "It's just so strange to see it all on paper."

"No regrets?" Blake asked after a moment. "I need to ask before filing this." He tapped the agreement.

Charles and Alice looked at each other for a long time, sharing a somewhat personal moment that Blake was a bit embarrassed to be witnessing.

"You'll be free to marry other people, should you so choose" Blake said quietly. "From the day the judge signs off on this agreement, neither of you will have the right to be in the home you're giving up without consent from the resident party. You'll have no responsibilities to one another … and, of course, this _will_ be a matter of public record when it's filed."

Alice looked as her husband raised his eyebrows slightly; she licked her lips, considering, and whispered to him,

"After Christmas? Will that suit?"

Blake watched with curiosity as Charles smiled gratefully and nodded his reply, and then Alice turned to him to clarify.

"We don't want to go public just yet, because Robert is still securing final funding for his current project - _that_ is something you never heard, Mr. Blake."

"Duly noted," he nodded.

"We know that our divorce will hit the papers when it's finalized, but we want to wait two more months and _then_ file." She laid her fingertips on the agreement and pushed it back toward him. "We have no regrets, but there's no need to rush it. We're comfortable with our decision."

"Then that's fine," Blake said kindly, gathering the papers. "I'll have copies of all of this for you within the next week. Today is the twenty-fourth of October, so why don't we say we'll file on January second ... unless you change your mind."

"Perfect," Charles told him. "And thank you."

They finished their drinks, and Charles paid the bill.

"I insist," he told Blake, who thanked him as he tucked away his billfold.

On the sidewalk, they bid Blake goodbye, with a tentative appointment set for the middle of December, provided that Charles could commit to being in the States and not on location in London at that time.

As Blake drove off, Charles turned to look at his wife.

"Well," he said, smiling sadly. "That was rather … final."

Alice was staring off into the distance and only nodded.

"Penny for them?" he asked tentatively.

"I was just thinking that I'm grateful we never had children. It'd all be a bit more of a mess if we had, I think."

"True."

She turned to him. "And you? What's on your mind?"

But he just shook his head, unable to really reply. He certainly didn't want to answer honestly, to let loose the anger and sadness in his heart about the missed opportunity to be a father. He didn't want to discuss his questions about how odd the holidays would feel knowing that their divorce was imminent, or about his reservations about how it would all play out in the papers once the legal proceedings were public record, published in the newspapers. He assumed Alice would want to craft a press release, and he realized belatedly that writing _that_ was probably how they'd be spending Christmas.

"Nothing in particular," he lied. "Come on; let's go back to the house. We need to change for dinner tonight."

"Would you mind terribly if I didn't go?" Alice asked as they walked to the car. "I think I'd like to turn in early, if it's all the same. Surely Robert and Cora wouldn't mind?"

Charles sighed. "I'm sure they'll understand," he told her as he reached to open the door for her.

 _I suppose they should get used to it,_ he thought.

As he got into the car, he made a decision: he would tell Robert and Cora tonight. He owed them that much, after all.

 _They've already seen you through a_ _ **bad**_ _break-up,_ he thought wryly. _They should at least be prepared to see you through the easier one._

"You'll tell them?" Alice asked, knowing what he was thinking.

"Unless you mind."

"No," she whispered, staring out the window at the passing scenery. "I don't mind at all."

Charles glanced over at her, and the expression on her face told him she was already miles away in her own mind.

 **oOoOoOoOo**

 _ **Tuesday, 15 November**_

Charles scanned the papers before him as he sipped his coffee. He pulled the cap off of his pen, circling a few potential choices.

"What's all that, then?"

He looked up from his desk to see Robert approaching; Charles motioned for Robert to sit in one of the armchairs, and he complied.

"House-hunting," Charles said bluntly. "Vacation homes. Far-removed from LA, but still stateside."

"Really? My, my … you really are going through with it."

Charles looked at his old friend. "Did you doubt me?"

"No, of course not," Robert said with a wave of his hand. "It's just … Oh, I don't know, old chap. I suppose it's _unexpected_ is all."

Charles heaved a great sigh, capped the pen, and tossed it onto the desk as he leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers over his stomach.

"I need something," he said slowly. "Something that's new ... and mine."

"Something without ties to Alice," Robert summarized. "I can understand that."

"I know that one shouldn't make changes right away," Charles told him. "But I feel like I've spent the last five years not making changes I _should_ have been taking care of. I moved here for this project, which was fine - I love what you're doing here, Robert, the story you're telling with this film, the attention to detail. You must know that."

"I do," Robert said, smiling. "And I thank you for that."

Charles nodded. "But I knew coming here that I had a home in LA. I just assumed that was that. And now I'm in need of a new one."

Robert glanced at the listings spread out on the desk. "So … you're commuting from Colorado?" he joked.

"Hardly," Charles laughed. "No, I'll rent something local for a year, see where things end up. But I wouldn't mind having an escape. Somewhere away from the job."

He rubbed his hand across his jaw, thinking. "I'm sixty-one, Robert. I'd like to retire in the next five years. Picking up Mary, becoming her agent, isn't something I regret … but it's not a permanent plan, either. Not much call for history experts in Hollywood these days, and I'm rather tired of the dreary British productions that are being cranked out at breakneck speed. I think that, in a few years, I'll be irrelevant."

"Never," Robert protested. "There will always be a need for people who do what you do, who know what you know. You're a master at tradition and precision, Charles - the best in your field of expertise."

"I appreciate that, but I disagree about the demand," Charles said with a smirk. "And my CV proves I'm right."

Robert reached forward and grabbed the paper, perusing what Charles had circled.

"Eagle, Colorado," he murmured. "How odd."

Charles raised a furry eyebrow. "How so?"

Robert pointed at the home listing. "I've been talking with Cora," he said. "We need a big fundraising event for this project, and she's been batting a few ideas around with Elsie. Cora wants to have a bash - a _big_ bash, for high-end donors - and we discussed taking the production team and the family to Vail. It's ritzy, and we can rent a place and spend the holiday."

"You mean actually going there over Christmas?"

"Yes. But _we'd_ all head out about a week earlier."

"And by 'we' you mean … us, Elsie, John and Anna, surely Thomas …"

"Phyllis, my mother, and the heads of set and design, costuming, and publicity. Yes."

Charles nodded slowly. "I can run it by Alice, see what she thinks."

"Perhaps she'll stay home," Robert said bluntly. "I'm sure she'll be busy."

Charles looked up at him, seeing an interesting mixture of emotion in Robert's eyes.

"I _was_ wondering how this last holiday would be - the last one together, as it were," Charles mused. "Perhaps it _would_ be better to be apart for it."

Robert rose from the chair. "Well, my point was going to be that if we're headed there for Christmas as Cora would like to do, then you should make an appointment to see _that,"_ he said, pointing at the paper, "soon. Then think on it, and perhaps _buy_ it next month. You're sure to have some time to yourself during the trip. If I'm not mistaken, that house is about half an hour's drive from Vail."

"Really?"

Robert smiled. "Really. Cora's family are skiers; Vail is a lovely town, as I'm sure you remember from when we were last there, and Eagle is a nice, quiet alternative to Vail's glamour. I think you'd like it."

Charles smiled. "Well, then. Perhaps I shall. Thank you, Robert."

"Anytime, my friend. Anytime."

* * *

 ***Okay. So. This author has been divorced and has done research on divorce in CA for British ex-pats and dual citizens. But disclaimer: _I am not an attorney._**

 **Hoping everyone was able to enjoy that in some way. I know most of you all loathe Alice, but I just can't manage to paint her as completely hideous – Charles Carson did, in fact, love her at one point in canon, and I don't see him being in love with someone who had no redeeming qualities.**  
 **Next up: Christmas Eve.**


	10. Same Old Lang Syne

**A/N: Thanks to all for the lovely reviews - I really enjoy your comments and questions.**

 **I wish I could reply in person to guest reviewers. However, given that I cannot … to the person who asked about the "December 31 for tax purposes," I confess that didn't even cross my mind. However, filing paperwork still means a wait, and so much depends on the judge's schedule, whether or not things were completed accurately, etc. So I'm going with "you can't possibly time it perfectly." I hope that suits. :)**

 **This update was posted on Tumblr at Christmastime but wasn't put on this website; therefore, if you've already read it, then you'll know it's based upon the Dan Fogelberg song "Same Old Lang Syne." I'll toss it on Spotify. I did change a few bits of this chapter to fit better into the main fic, so please do consider a reread if you're up for it.**

 **Thanks again! xxx**

 **CSotA**

 _ **Saturday, 24 December**_

Elsie scanned the grocery shelf, unimpressed.

 _No Walkers? What the actual-_

"Elsie?"

She jumped, knocking her purse off the top of the shopping cart and spilling it all over the floor.

"Fuck," she muttered.

Charles's eyes widened with surprise, but he couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips as he bent down to help her gather her things.

"Always did have a bag full of nonsense," he couldn't help teasing, and she reached out to smack him.

"Shut up, you. We can't all have our shit together all the time."

She dumped a lipstick, change purse, and several receipts into the satchel and then held it open for him to replace the pen, eyeliner, and notepad that he'd retrieved from under the grocery store shelf.

"Thank you," she mumbled, embarrassed. "What brings you here on Christmas Eve?"

"Only place open, isn't it?" he reasoned.

"There's the Chinese restaurant in town."

He stared at her until she giggled, the annoyance on his face turning to amusement at her mirth.

"I realized an hour ago that I'd been looking forward to tomorrow so much I'd completely forgotten to obtain some form of sustenance for _tonight._ No suitable restaurants open besides the one at the hotel." He shrugged.

"Well, I hope you have better luck than I have," she told him, waving her hand at the cart. "But I agree; I am rather tired of the hotel's restaurant."

He peered inside the carriage: rotisserie chicken, rolls, plastic utensils, and paper plates.

"A veritable feast," he chuckled. "But you've no wine."

"They don't sell it here," she told him, pushing away from the sadly-stocked biscuit aisle and toward the register. Then, after a moment's consideration and a flutter of her heart, she added, "You'd be welcome to _join_ me in this feast if you'd like."

"Aren't you popping in on the party later?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no. I love Robert and Cora, but another party where I have to schmooze potential donors for this project is not my idea of a fun-filled holiday."

Charles just shook his head. "Nor mine, really. I can't believe they talked them all into being here."

Elsie looked sharply at him. "Actually, that was _me_ who got them to commit. They're here with their families, all expenses paid. Hell of a way to spend Christmas, and hopefully it'll pay off in the end."

"It looks promising, then?"

Elsie nodded. "Yes, I think so. One has already coughed up a sizeable investment. I just don't feel like working on Christmas Eve."

"Understandable."

She paid for her things and he carried the bags out to the car and loaded them in, then glanced at the taxi he had waiting by the curb.

"I need to head back in and find something," he said. "And let that poor man get home before the snow starts up."

"Oh, just send him home and join me," Elsie sighed, half-smiling at him from over the roof of her rental. "We can park the car and dig into this chicken. It'll be like old times."

He hesitated. "I don't know."

Elsie rolled her eyes. "Come on; it's Christmas. Let's find some alcohol and toast your new house."

Charles gave in; he headed over and paid the taxi driver, putting in an extra tip for the holiday.

"It's not my new house yet," he clarified when he returned, shifting the passenger's seat back to accommodate his tall frame. "I've only looked at it."

"For the second time," she reminded him. "And you obviously like it," she reasoned. "Are you afraid that Alice won't like it?"

Charles drummed his fingers on his knee as he looked out the window, watching the newly-falling snowflakes melt as they hit the window.

"Who knows what she likes anymore?" he muttered.

Elsie didn't know what to say, and so she opted for nothing at all. She put the car in gear and drove to the liquor store two blocks away.

 **oOoOoOoOo**

"This is unconscionable," Charles said quietly, and Elsie laughed as she reached into the cooler for a six-pack of beer.

"Vail's a snooty town, and it's Christmas Eve! Of course they're sold out of any wine _you'd_ drink." She held up the beer and smirked. "For old times' sake?"

He read the label and chuckled, shaking his head. "Why not?"

He insisted on paying for it, and Elsie grabbed a bottle opener and added it to their order.

"Don't have one in the car anymore," she told him, and he laughed as he remembered.

"Well, it's not _that_ car, is it?"

"No," she quipped as he pocketed his change. "This one's back seat is _much_ smaller."

The cashier saw Charles blush faintly and she chuckled, shaking her head as she dropped the beer into a brown bag.

"Merry Christmas, you two," she said.

"And to you," Charles replied. "Thank you."

They got in the car and drove off - fairly aimlessly, until Charles had a suggestion.

"All right," Elsie answered quietly. "As long as you know how to get there."

Fifteen minutes later, she parked the car just off the side of the road at a dead-end. The view was remarkable: the city below them, the lights twinkling in the snowfall, multi-colored and vibrant from the holiday but small and seemingly so far away.

"It's like another world up here," Elsie whispered. "How did you know about it?"

"I've been here before," Charles answered. "Once. With Robert. Stag party. Well, the party wasn't _here,"_ he clarified, "but here in Vail. The party was at a club."

 _You're blabbering,_ he admonished himself. _Stop!_

Elsie raised an eyebrow. "He got married in London, but he had his stag party in Colorado?"

"You say that as though it surprises you," he replied. "I'm shocked you didn't know."

"So am I! How has this never come up?"

"Well," Charles said, "you knew Cora's family was from here, didn't you?"

"Yes, just not that they hosted Robert's big bash."

"Harold's idea," Charles clarified.

"Of course," she nodded. "I'd forgotten he was the best man."

Charles cocked his head, remembering. "You weren't at the wedding."

"No, I wasn't able to go," she said quietly.

Charles stretched and reached behind Elsie's seat, his chest pressed remarkably close to where she was seated; a whiff of his cologne was all she needed to be instantly transported back ...

 _Not the time, Elsie!_

Charles dragged the bag up and deposited it in his lap.

"This is going to be a ridiculous mess," he said, feeling a change of subject was in order.

Elsie surprised him by taking the bag from his hands and stepping out of the car. Using the hood as a table, she made quick work of the chicken and rolls, managing two sandwiches in record time. She popped open the trunk and deposited the container (containing the rest of the chicken) and the leftover rolls in there so as to somewhat cut down on the car smelling strongly of rosemary and garlic.

"Here you are," she breathed as she hopped back into the car and handed Charles a plate.

"That was fast - and clever," he acknowledged. "Look at you, preparing dinner."

"Well, not much has changed in _that_ regard," she answered, smiling as he popped open the first two bottles of beer. "I didn't _cook_ the meal, after all, but I _have_ become rather adept at preparing things from pre-made items."

"I see. Well, cheers." He held his bottle out to her and clinked the necks together.

"Cheers."

She took a healthy swig, pondering her next words.

"So," she said after a few moments, "tell me what you've been up to the past few decades, Charlie."

His head shot up, a peculiar look in his eyes as he stared at her.

"No one's called me that in years," he murmured.

"Well," Elsie said, preparing to tuck into the remainder of her sandwich, "more's the pity."

 **oOoOoOo**

They covered a lot of ground over dinner. Elsie explained how it was she ended up married to a farmer ("He was in school for architecture, of all things, when his Da died suddenly and we inherited the farm."), and Charles gave a couple of details of when he and Alice had met.

"I never would have imagined you with an actress," she admitted. "But you've clearly done well for yourself."

"Well," he admitted, "the publicity and all that, the audiences when we'd have a premiere or red-carpet event … those things were nice, I suppose. I couldn't have been an actor, though, could never have managed that. That miserable year on the stage was enough for me. But being able to attend all of those things without the pressure of being on camera? That's been lovely."

"So you've enjoyed it? That's wonderful. And now you seem to have cut back a bit - an agent with exactly one client."

She smiled at him, but he knew she wasn't teasing, knew she was truly interested - even if he did represent Mary.

"Exactly. But the traveling is hell, really. I don't like being across the Atlantic ten or twelve times in six months, particularly when it's London to Hollywood and not New York. No, that's not my cup of tea."

He hesitated, finishing his beer; up until now, he'd not spoken about this aloud, except the one time with Robert. But he knew Elsie wasn't one to divulge a secret.

"I've been thinking of retiring, actually."

"Have you? Oh, I could never!"

"Haven't you _ever_ considered what your life might be like in retirement?" he asked, but she shook her head.

"Not at all," she said. "Not yet, anyhow. I'm still young!"

He laughed, and they segued into conversation about the past … memories of times they'd shared, of school and internships, of time spent with the Crawleys and the holiday when Elsie had accompanied him to their house because she'd been snowed in and unable to fly home.

"Do you remember the end-of-term party your senior year?" Elsie asked, tears of laughter streaming down her face. She reached up to wipe them as he was nodding.

"How could I forget? I've never seen anyone as ill as you were that night."

"I've never heard anyone sing quite as loudly and off-key as _you_ did that night!"

"I think this beer has addled your brain," he deadpanned. "We weren't that bad!"

"Nice try! Ohh no. I remember _that_ bit all too well! You and Robert, up on stage at the club, belting out some Beatles song or other as loudly as you could!"

"Well, I believe I was talked into doing it by a certain red-haired beauty," he said without thinking, and they fell instantly silent.

Elsie watched him, saw the way he blushed furiously and then looked down at his hands, tugging uncomfortably at his coat, and she found it all quite endearing.

"Oh, Charlie," she said softly, shaking her head slowly. "You always were a charmer."

He picked at a thread on his cuff. "Evidently not quite charming enough, though, eh?"

"Well," she said, swallowing down a bit of discomfort as she stared out the window, "it was a long time ago. Another lifetime, really."

He waited until she looked up at him, and the way the faint light from the dashboard caught her eyes made them sparkle. He smiled again.

"Your eyes are still so blue," he murmured, his gaze roaming her features: a few more lines and wrinkles, but the same sparkle in her eyes, the same redness to her lips, the softness to her cheeks. "The years have been a friend to you, Elsie."

"And to you," she replied honestly.

"Ah," he argued gently, "not so much. Turning grey, tux a bit more snug than it used to be."

"I don't know," she mused, glancing him up and down. "I think it suits you."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Older and fatter suits me?"

But her smile instantly shut down any other protest he might have had; in the blink of an eye, she was the honest, caring, friendly Elsie he'd loved when they were students.

"No," she almost cooed. "Distinguished. Comfortable." And before she could stop herself, she reached out and fingered the greying curl that had fallen above his eye. "And it _does_ suit you, Charlie. I think you're the same now as you were then … from what I can tell, in the ways that matter, you really haven't changed."

She withdrew her fingers much too soon for his liking, and he sighed softly.

"What is it?"

 _Where did we go wrong?_ he thought, but he couldn't make himself ask. He was still married, and she didn't deserve to be led head-first into a mess … she didn't need that, however thrilling it felt to be back in her good graces and working by her side.

However much he loved her … even now.

"Nothing," he replied out loud.

Elsie licked her lips, and he watched as her tongue disappeared again, playing over what Charles knew was likely a raw spot on the inside from biting down on it so much.

 _Some things never do change … but some do._

"We should be getting back, I suppose," Elsie ventured. She glanced at the gasoline gauge, surprised at how little it had moved given that they'd been sitting for almost two hours in a running vehicle in order to keep warm.

Charles cleared his throat. "We should. The rest of this week will be late nights, indeed, with everything you and Cora have planned."

"I know." Elsie reached for her seat belt, buckling it and waiting for Charles to do the same before she pulled out of her parking spot and back onto the road. "And having begged off of tonight, I think we'll be stuck there for the long haul."

"True."

They made their way down the road, Elsie concentrating on his spoken directions until they were back to an area she recognized.

"Will Alice be able to join us at all?" she ventured.

"No," he said after a moment's silence. "She couldn't get a flight out by the time she'd sorted her schedule."

"I'm sorry," Elsie said, mostly honest. "It must be sad to spend the holiday apart, although I suppose in our business you're used to it. I can count on one hand the Christmases I actually spent in Scotland when I was married."

"Yeah."

She glanced over at him, wishing that the comfortable, familiar Charles she'd just spent the last two hours with would reemerge out of this buttoned-up man who now sat beside her.

But he just stared out the window, watching as the snow turned into rain, and they didn't say another word until she dropped him off at his flat.

 **So ... progress, sort of? Would love to know what you think. :) xxx**


	11. Old Friends

**A/N: This chapter gives some summary progress, and hopefully you all enjoy where we appear to be heading. I truly appreciate everyone from tumblr who read the last chapter** _ **again**_ **and took the time to leave a review. I'm glad it seemed a bit different now that you have the context of the rest of the story. Kind of. I know, I know … you don't have "the story" yet. I promise, it will come in time.**

 **Love you guys! xxx**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Old friends**_

 _ **Memory brushes the same years**_

 _ **Silently sharing the same fears …**_

* * *

 _ **25 December thru 12 January**_

The rest of their time in Vail went even better than Elsie could have hoped. She managed to secure three final sources of funding that would take care of their upcoming on-location trip to London without draining the CFP coffers (which constituted a job _very_ well done, if she did say so herself). She and Charles enjoyed two working lunches together, during which they went over details specific to needs for future sets and scenery. They also had one pleasant dinner with the entire crew (at which they sat together and chatted amiably) and they attended several meetings together.

Elsie was finding it hard to remember _why_ she'd been so angry to see Charles that first day at the studio, and about halfway through the Vail trip, she felt as though they were becoming friends once again. And she noticed that while Charles had seemed a bit distant initially, he didn't seem _quite_ as uncomfortable by the end of the week as he'd appeared at the beginning of it.

What Elsie didn't know (because he was managing to keep it a secret) was that Charles was having a hard time maintaining a respectable demeanor during all of those hours spent by her side. Just like when they'd been to dinner with the Crawleys and Thomas Barrow, he had realized along the way that while there wasn't anything particularly glamorous about Elsie, her innate beauty and kindness still had the power to jolt his heart with feelings he hadn't experienced in years. It was in the little things - like how she poured a cup of tea, how she clutched her phone between her chin and shoulder because she loathed speakerphone, and even how she'd tap her pen incessantly on the side of her notepad when she was daydreaming during a meeting. Alice spent so much time trying to be perfect, but Elsie's beauty was in the sheer fact that she _wasn't_ perfect … and in how instead of hating that, she seemed to positively embrace it, others' opinions be damned.

His discomfort was multiplied once they got back to LA, partially because he was home more. The time he spent with Alice became frustrating as the finalization of their divorce approached; Charles needed to start packing, and he and Alice were both finding it difficult to separate their possessions into "his" and "hers." It took more discussion time than either of them seemed to have available. He'd found a flat to move to for the remainder of the project's filming, but the packing was slow going at best.

Eventually, Charles simply sat and made a list of basic needs: his clothing, some basic cooking and eating supplies, his laptop and phone. He and Alice decided he'd take his furniture from the spare bedroom and one of the sofas in the living room, and then he'd purchase a small dining table and chairs, leaving everything else with Alice. They still had the home in London, which would be his, but Alice had already moved everything she _really_ cared about to LA. Once Charles's lease on his new flat was up, he'd reassess the situation, as he saw no need to newly furnish a flat only to have to turn around and sell everything if he decided to return to London permanently.

"I feel as though I'm in a permanent state of flux," he confided in Robert one evening over drinks. "I packed up house and moved here, and now I'm doing it all over again. And then, who knows? When this film wraps …" He shook his head, frustrated.

"Will you stay with Mary?" Robert asked. "I realize it's been rough at times."

"Of course," Charles smiled. "That is, if she _wants_ me. If this film is a success, it'll open up terrific opportunities for her. I'm no fool, Robert; she may very well do better with an agent who's younger and more connected to the fast-paced life of Hollywood up-and-comers. I'm really just an historian."

"Well," Robert answered, swallowing down the last of his brandy, "you've done well by her so far. Her popularity is up; people in town are curious about her."

"Yes, well, your publicist is magnificent, too. And once you let Edith run that piece in the _Times,_ that'll help even more. I think Elsie mentioned meeting with Edith about that soon, actually. And that will thrust Mary into the spotlight as the central character of the film."

"It will. And don't be so sure she'll give you up, Charles. You're very dear to her, as we both know."

Charles simply smiled before finishing his own drink.

As Charles drifted off to sleep that night, he marveled at how no one had gotten wind of the divorce yet. Charles knew that Robert and Cora were trustworthy, and while he also suspected that Violet had sensed something afoot, he knew his secret would be safe with those three. But there was no buzz on the set, and Charles and Alice had been sure to be seen dining in public a couple of times. The paparazzi had snapped a million photos of the beautiful Alice Neal and her relatively unknown husband, and she'd been sure to smile brightly and clutch Charles's hand in her own.

All in all, it was going much better than he had expected. He'd briefly considered letting Elsie in on it as well, but given the way his heart fluttered every time he heard her voice drifting out into the hallway from her office, he thought it better that he not go down that road at all.

 **oOoOoOo**

Two weeks after returning from the Christmas trip, the cast and crew were set to travel to England for a segment of on-location filming. They'd be flying out on a Tuesday, and everyone was working diligently to tie up last-minute details in LA before making the trip.

Thursday night found Charles closing up his office a bit early, hoping to sneak in some extra time packing his belongings before he also had to pack for London.

"Leaving early, are we?"

Charles smiled as he turned the key in the lock, then withdrew it and turned around. He could hear Elsie's fatigue in the deepening of her accent but decided not to comment on that.

"I know," he laughed lightly. "It's unusual."

Elsie fell into step beside Charles as he headed toward the elevator.

"I'll not be far behind you, I think. I'm completely exhausted, and I never sleep well on the damn plane, so I have to bank some sleep ahead of next week."

"It doesn't work that way, you know," he chided, and she smiled at him, tilting her head in acknowledgement of that truth.

"In any event," Charles mused, "the rest of the weekend should be fairly quiet around here. I'm sure you'll be all set."

"Most likely."

They stopped at the elevator and Elsie waved to Cora, who was walking by and heading around the corner toward Robert's office.

"They're here late," Charles observed.

"Update for the investors is due tomorrow," Elsie informed him. "Robert asked for my help, but thankfully Cora intervened and convinced him they could do it on their own. I've given them all the figures anyhow."

The carriage arrived then, the bell cutting off any answer Charles would have had.

"Get some rest, Els," he advised, stepping into the elevator, and she smiled softly.

"All right. 'Night."

The doors closed before him, and Elsie stood there staring at them for a moment before returning to her office.

She stopped short as she turned the corner and saw Cora, who had evidently _not_ gone into Robert's office at all. Elsie was taken aback at the way Cora was looking at her: _curiously_ , she supposed, as if Cora were trying to piece something together. It made Elsie uncomfortable; wary, even.

"Cora? Did you need something? I was about to head home for the evening, but if you and Robert need help, I'm happy to stay."

"No," Cora replied quietly, her voice sounding far away, as though she were contemplating something. "Elsie? May I ask you something?"

Elsie swallowed slowly. "Of course."

"You and Charles," Cora said softly. "Is there anything …"

Elsie furrowed her eyebrows. "Anything _what,_ Cora?"

" _Between_ you," Cora added in a whisper.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's just … well ... you seem closer lately. More like you always used to be, really. And I thought, just now …" Cora closed her eyes and shook her head, frustrated with her lack of clarity. "Oh, never mind."

Elsie rolled her eyes and gave half a laugh. _"Never mind?_ You've got to be kidding."

She glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping.

"You can't just drop that at my feet and then give me a 'never mind,'" she scoffed.

Cora just stared at her contemplatively, which only frustrated Elsie more.

"Well, the the answer to your question is an emphatic _no,_ Cora," Elsie whispered. "He's _married,_ for Christ's sake! And we've spent _years_ not even speaking!"

"I know," Cora said calmly, "but you've also spent the last few _weeks_ speaking a great deal more than I'd have expected."

Elsie drew her lip underneath her teeth, not quite sure how to respond.

"We work together," she said eventually. "In case you had forgotten, that's Robert's fault - and, I daresay, yours. Because while I'm quite sure that bringing Charles in on this project was Violet and Robert's idea, I'm also sure that bringing _me_ in was _yours._ "

Cora looked away, guilty, which was all the confirmation Elsie needed.

"Right. And so it's really in everyone's best interests that we get along, because here we all are," Elsie continued, gesturing wildly at the surrounding office area. "Charlie and I have managed to get past our - well, our _past_ \- and now that we have, you're insinuating that … what? That my motives aren't pure? That _his_ aren't?"

"No!" Cora shook her head, sighing exasperatedly and rolling her eyes. "I'm just worried for you, Elsie. I mean, he _is_ -" But she stopped speaking. She knew that Charles and Alice were still keeping their divorce under wraps, and it wasn't her place to tell.

"'He is' ... _what,_ exactly?"

"Married," Cora finished weakly, "as you've just said. And you know how the press are. Just … be careful."

"We work together!" Elsie was nearly shouting now, and she cursed herself for allowing her emotions to get the better of her. Lowering her voice again, she added, "How are we supposed to avoid being together? It's idiotic! I worked in Robert's office the other day," she added, now a bit red in the face from both embarrassment and anger, "and we had the _door closed!_ Heavens, what must _that_ have looked like?"

"That's different," Cora said calmly.

"How?"

Cora looked down at her shoes for a moment, then back at Elsie.

"Because Charles called you 'Els' back there," she said quietly, "and you called him 'Charlie.' And that's quite different, to anyone who knows you, than what either you or Charles would call simply a collegial relationship. For heaven's sake, if it weren't for Robert's insistence on everyone being on a first-name basis, you'd likely be calling one another Mr. Carson and Ms. Hughes."

Elsie flushed hotly; she'd been completely unaware of how their nicknames must sound to everyone else … they'd just kind of slipped back into how she and Charles interacted with one another.

"It speaks to a familiarity you've not had in a long time," Cora added. "That's all. Just … I love you both, but please … be careful."

"Cora," Elsie said steadily, "there is nothing to be careful _of_ because nothing of … of _that sort_ is going on."

"Even if you wish it were?" Cora pressed.

Elsie threw her hands up in frustration. "I give up!" She turned and stormed back to her office, but Cora trailed closely behind.

"I'm going home," Elsie announced, her back to her friend as she packed her briefcase.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," Cora said, closing Elsie's office door behind herself. "But from the beginning, this project has been nothing but trouble."

Elsie turned to face her. She leaned against her desk and crossed her arms over her chest.

"My family has been at one another's throats," Cora confided, and Elsie heard a catch in her voice. "Charles has had to work with Mary and scold her about her laziness and about the fact that she seems to have forgotten _how_ to even act, Violet can't keep her damned hands out of anything despite having promised to do so, and we have that frigging reporter showing up everywhere. I just -"

But Elsie cut her off. "Wait. The reporter? The one who showed up at John and Anna's?"

Cora nodded.

"He's been back around?"

"Yes."

"How the hell did I not know about this?" she asked, but Cora just shrugged. "Where was he _this_ time?"

"He showed up at the hospital, snapping pictures of Sybil and Tom as he was escorting her home from her shift last week," Cora said. "Isobel reported the guy to the police, but she didn't get his plate number, so couldn't prove he was Carlisle's man. But the press aren't supposed to be at hospitals and such, because of the privacy issues with all the patients."

Elsie nodded.

"He was at a restaurant last week where Charles and Alice were having lunch," she added, "and Charles thinks he spotted the guy at the grocery store, of all places. He was with some woman _that_ time."

"What the hell?" Elsie murmured, mystified. "But he's not taken any pictures, other than at the hospital?"

The question stopped Cora in her tracks. "No," she said thoughtfully, "now that you mention it, I don't think he has. Oh, wait - Charles said he took a few of Alice."

"Well, that's not unusual," Elsie replied, her eyebrows high. "But it begs the question: What, exactly, is this 'reporter' actually _doing?"_

Cora shook her head. "I have no idea."

* * *

 **Would love to know what you think! Send me your suspicions, questions, concerns, etc. I love reading them! xx**


	12. Special Delivery

**A/N: Thanks again for the thoughtful reviews. No Chelsie in this one, but I hope you like it anyhow. Time to see a little bit of what's going on - forgive me - _behind the scenes._**

 **Shout-out to Chelsie fan who beta'd this chapter before I attacked it again. She offered marvelous feedback where needed. (I hope I've not messed around with it too much since then!)**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Thursday, 12 January**_

Edith Crawley capped her pen and threw it angrily across her desk. Blowing a stray piece of hair off her forehead, she rocked back in her chair and rubbed her temples, which were now throbbing thanks to the array of papers currently stacked on her desk.

 _Bad articles,_ she thought, _and bad editorials. What the hell?_

The knock on the door was expected, and she didn't even look up as Bertie walked in, a large manila envelope in his hands.

" _There_ you are," he said gently. "Hiding again? I thought you were downstairs."

She didn't move, and he was hesitant as he laid the envelope on her desk. "I've sent for some tea, it should be here in a few."

Edith finally looked up and smiled.

"Bless you," she told Bertie, waving him into a seat on the sofa. "Please tell me there is something better in that envelope than the garbage my writers keep sending me. It's barely fit to print!"

"I wish I could," he replied. "But I can't." He motioned toward the envelope, which Edith reached for quickly, her brow furrowed with concern.

The tea arrived, and Bertie got up and fixed their cups as Edith spread out the envelope's contents on her desk.

"Holy shit," she whispered, looking up. "Close the door, please."

He did, and she took the teacup when he offered it, her hands shaking and causing it to rattle a bit on the saucer.

"You've looked at these," she said, not unhappily, and Bertie nodded.

"I have. I hope that's all right. The envelope _was_ addressed to you, but I thought it was the late proofs we'd been waiting for."

"It's fine."

He glanced over at the desktop again. "My word … Does Mary even know those _exist?"_

"I have no idea," Edith sighed. "But I doubt it very much."

Bertie sipped at his tea, remaining quiet as he worked out precisely what he wanted to say.

"Edith," he ventured, "what if you printed something about this? What would happen?"

Her laugh was short, but loud, and it startled him. "What would _happen?_ Let's see. We could start with the fact that Mary's career would be over. Papa would undoubtedly lose key investors for the _Granthams_ project, and his name would be ruined because _this_ -" She flicked a sheet of paper. "- insinuates that he's covered up a _crime."_

"Not necessarily," Bertie argued.

Edith opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand and silenced her.

"Hear me out, Edith. What if … What if you _did_ print something about it? What if you printed it as a proactive bit of information, found a way to publicize that someone clearly has it out for your family?"

She didn't answer, but she flipped through everything again as she turned his words over and over in her head.

Strewn over the top of her desk was an assortment of photographs of Mary and Tony Gillingham in a decidedly _intimate_ set of circumstances in what looked like an hotel. They were time-stamped from September, and although Edith realized the dates may have been faked, that would be impossible to prove.

She sighed, frustrated, and pushed those pictures aside to reexamine the others that had arrived with them; there was one older photo of Mary and another gentleman, and one photograph of Robert. In the latter, it appeared that Robert was handing an envelope off to a shady looking character behind one of the buildings at the studio.

Then there was the paper: a letter - unsigned, but handwritten in a shaky scrawl. It was obviously a photocopy, and Edith was certain that the original would have the author's signature at the bottom. The wording was simple, but jarring:

 _October 10_

 _Robert Crawley, owner and CEO of Crawley Film Productions, paid me $1,000 dollars to keep the enclosed photographs from ever being printed._

"Wait," she muttered, reading the note again. "Then why do _we_ have them?"

Bertie sat back and stared at her, waiting for Edith to reach the same conclusion he had; it was so simple that he was afraid she just might miss it.

"Ohh," she finally uttered, looking up at Bertie with disbelieving eyes. "So evidently someone took these pictures, lied to Papa about keeping them silent if he - or she, perhaps - got paid off, and is now sending them to us as a warning? For _more_ money?"

"I think so," he said. "And you can bet there are other copies."

"But why me?"

"Do you want them public?"

"Of course not!"

Bertie smiled sadly at her. "Of course you don't. Of everyone in your family, you're perhaps the most level-headed. And you've got a lot of power in this town as editor of the _Times,_ whether you like that or not."

"And access to money," she nodded slowly. "Of course." She looked into Bertie's eyes, and he saw a bit of fear in hers. "Who the hell would do this, Bertie?"

Bertie raised his eyebrows. "Who in this town hates your family enough, Edith?" he countered.

"Oh, good God," Edith whispered, rubbing her hands over her face. "Richard Carlisle. Of course."

"Yes, that was my first thought," Bertie said. "He has a personal vendetta against Mary and _hates_ Robert. What better way to attack the family than through _you?_ You're hardly known for your loving relationship with your older sister _._ "

"No kidding."

"This is a challenge," Bertie said. "Either you print something proactive, or he'll go public."

"We don't _know_ it's him."

"True. But who else would care enough? Any two-bit photographer would have just sold them fast to some foolish tabloid – flashy headline that would be dismissed as lies."

He paused, allowing her to mull that over before continuing. When she nodded, he spoke again. "Edith, listen. I know that dating you doesn't give me much clout in this entertainment industry, and there are definitely things that I don't understand about how it all works. But what _I_ think you should do is print an article about how your family is being blackmailed, or how someone is attempting it. Put it under a pseudonym, make it seem like a private source, I don't much care. But be the first to come out with it. It could be something as simple as, "Crawley Film Productions: New Project Ruffles Feathers in Entertainment Industry," or something similar. Gillingham is in the industry, isn't he? So presumably the fact that Mary's popularity will skyrocket if this film is a success is a threat to someone …"

Edith was astonished. "Or tank if the film is canned. And you suspect Tony could have put Carlisle up to this?"

"Perhaps. Is he jealous of her celebrity? Or angry that she broke it off?"

"Maybe," Edith shrugged, and then she gasped. "Wait a minute! I think I remember Granny saying that the woman who cast Mary is Tony's new fiancée."

"How new is _new?"_

Edith thought back for a moment. "Maybe September? It was after Charles showed up, and I think that was in August for Mary's audition."

"So ... before the time stamp on those, possibly," he said, pointing at the pictures.

Edith nodded.

"And is Mary any good? At the acting, I mean?" Bertie asked bluntly.

"I don't know," Edith admitted. "I haven't set foot behind the walls of the studio in weeks. Granny and I agreed that my staying away would keep me from wanting to write about it. She was afraid that if I were privy to how it's all playing out, I'd want to help Papa by giving his project extra attention in the press." She laughed harshly. "How ironic."

Bertie got up and stood behind Edith's chair, laying a hand on her shoulder as he reached out for one of the photos.

"Who's this gent?" he asked, showing Edith the photo he picked up.

She looked at it for a long moment.

"I can't print anything about that, Bertie," she whispered. "I can't _ever_ mention _that_ to _anyone."_

"Why? Who is he?"

Edith licked her lips, and then looked up at Bertie fearfully.

"An ex of Mary's … sort of," Edith said.

"And … what? It ended badly?"

"You could say that," Edith whispered. "He died - in her bed. Overdose, they think."

Bertie's eyes widened almost comically, and he squeezed Edith's shoulder.

"Well," he said eventually. "You're right about one thing. You can't print _that_ for sure. So, what do you want to do?"

Edith tilted her head, resting her cheek on Bertie's hand as she took a deep, cleansing breath.

"I think it's time for me to go and visit with Papa."

 **oOoOoOo**

"Yes, it's true," Robert said, looking sadly at his middle daughter. "But it wasn't a thousand, it was five hundred. And a job."

"A _job?"_

Robert walked over to the small table in his office and poured a whisky - neat.

"Don't tell your mother," he warned, and she smiled and shook her head.

"No worries on that score."

Robert took a small sip. "Yes," he said. "He just seemed like some bloke who wanted a job on the set. So I sent him to HR* with a letter of recommendation – which he'd come prepared with. All I had to do was sign it. I honestly don't even remember his name." He pressed a palm against his forehead and dragged his fingers through his short hair.

"I'm sure the original copy of the letter has it."

"He only showed me the pictures with Gillingham, though," Robert told her, blushing faintly. He certainly didn't want to think of his eldest daughter in _any_ sort of compromising position, and seeing the photos had been quite a shock, indeed.

"Wait … he didn't show you the one with Kemal?"

Robert shook his head.

"No. Just … Just the others."

"And you don't remember his name?" she repeated. "I find that hard to believe, Papa."

"I didn't even read the letter, really. And we were in the back lot. It was dark, and I was afraid someone would come by and find us …" He shrugged, embarrassed.

"I suppose."

"I'm sure that if we get over to HR, they'd know who he is," Robert said.

Edith took a deep breath.

"Papa, Bertie had an idea …"

And she proceeded to tell him about it. Robert adamantly refused at first, but once she explained the pros and cons, he at least agreed to discuss it with Cora.

"Give me a week or two," he said. "For better or worse, we'll figure something out. Filming is well under way, and thanks to Elsie we've secured and received all of the investments for the project. We're off to London soon, and then half of us are stopping off in Toronto for four days there … something about sets and props and other things I don't worry about."

"That sounds great!"

Robert smiled. "It is, actually. The investments will keep us going, and if the film actually does _well,_ then we should be in the clear for a few more projects before turning it in."

"Oh, Papa," she said softly, "has it really been that bad?"

Robert sniffed, then smiled at his daughter. "It isn't anymore," he said. "But I'm not sure how much longer I have here, to be honest."

"I don't know," Edith replied, a small smile playing about her lips. "I'd expect that the remainder of your tenure as lord of _this_ establishment has more to do with Mama than anything else."

"That it does," he admitted, smiling fondly. "When she's done, we walk away. But if I can support her in her work, as she's supported me in mine all these long, hard years …"

Edith leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"I know, Papa. I know."

He smiled, then wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"Two weeks," he whispered. "Maximum." He felt her nod against his shoulder.

"I hope we have that long," she replied. "It'll be a miracle if no one beats us to the punch."

"Those are all you received?" he asked after a moment. "The things in that envelope?"

"Yes."

"Then we have time," he said.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because there was no demand," Robert answered. "Trust me; once you have time to think about the contents, you'll be hearing from someone. We'll reevaluate when you do."

Edith shuddered, and Robert felt it against his chest. He couldn't fault her, either; he was terrified, too.

* * *

 ***HR - Human Resources. Basically, they deal with employees in a large company (hiring, paperwork, insurance, etc.).**

 **DYING to know what you thought. x**


	13. London, Part 1

**A/N: SQUEEEE! I have been waiting SO LONG for the London chapters. I'm wagering you have, too. This is a two-parter, and the second half will be up in a couple of days.**

 **Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews. Unfortunately, this website's review service is down again (shocker ... sigh) and so I can't reply to them just yet. I will do so ASAP when we're back up. Special thanks to Chelsie fan for the beta work.**

 **The song lyrics for this chapter are from my fave Brother Sun - "So Far to Come." It's on the Spotify list for this story (username ChelsieSouloftheAbbey).**

 **Enjoy! If you can leave a wee review and let me know what you think, that's always appreciated. xxx**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **I was swimming**_

 _ **In a bright blue sea that was your eyes**_

 _ **When you looked at me**_

 _ **Then I watched the clouds roll over,**_

 _ **Over the sun ...**_

 _ **Maybe I'm late 'cause I had**_

 _ **So far to come ...**_

* * *

 _ **17 January - 22 January**_

As the plane touched down in London, Elsie sighed gratefully. She stretched, then ran a hand through her hair, paused for a moment, and decided to just gather it and pull it into a ponytail. Five hours of tossing and turning while she tried to catch some sleep had done nothing good for it, anyhow.

Glancing across the aisle, she saw Charles with his hands clasped tightly over his stomach and his eyes closed, doing a bit of deep breathing of his own. She smiled fondly at the scene, happy that he seemed to have taken into consideration her advice about relaxed, steady breathing as a way to calm himself, and she wondered how many people were privy to the fact that he was terrified of landings. Not the take-off or the turbulence, but the landing itself.

Looking around the rest of the cabin at everyone else's preoccupation with their own things, she thought, _Not many._

Charles exhaled slowly and then opened his eyes to find Elsie watching him.

She tilted her head. _All right?_ she mouthed, and he nodded gratefully.

 _Much better. Thank you._

She winked at him in reply and then chastised herself for it instantly, thinking that it was a good thing Cora hadn't seen that particular little exchange.

When the seat belt light went off, everyone stood and stretched. Even in first class, the flight from LA to London was ridiculously tiresome, and they were all exhausted and looked a bit worse for the wear.

 _Even Mary,_ Elsie thought with a smile.

The next couple of hours were spent much like any other trip: exit plane, proceed through passport control, gather luggage, pass through customs. By the time they got to the limo bank and found their assigned vehicles, Elsie was ready for a nap.

"Welcome to London, ma'am," the driver said with a tip of his hat, and she nodded.

"Thank you," she smiled. "It's good to be back, I think."

"Beautiful weather for your entire stay, minus one possible afternoon of light snow," he commented as he held her door open. "Should be fairly enjoyable if you manage to get out at all."

"Let's hope so," she commented, and she scooted in toward a center seat as Charles, Cora, Joseph, and Robert joined her in the car.

 **oOoOoOo**

Despite the fact that the day was half over, the cast and crew gathered for an afternoon meeting in the hotel's restaurant, just to go over their tight itinerary once again. Mary, Cora, and two other stars were set to film two scenes in the library of the estate the next morning, and Charles had an updated list of items that needed to be included in the shot, such as the painting over the fireplace and an antique table by the window; he handed it to Thomas, who made a few notes for the film crew.

"Limo picks us up at six?" Elsie heard Cora ask, and she confirmed the early time.

"A little over an hour to the estate," she reminded everyone. "So an early night for everyone, please."

Charles felt his phone buzz and checked it quickly. He was embarrassed when he read the text and realized he'd not let Alice know they'd arrived, and he shot off a quick reply:

 _Landed fine. Calm and everything._

Her answer came swiftly, and he wondered if she'd actually been worried for him.

 _Glad to hear it. New trick?_

And his reply: _Yes._

He silenced the phone and laid it face-down on the table, wondering why it bristled him that she'd asked.

It took him nearly the rest of the meeting to figure it out; quite simply, it was because she'd never written to ask after him during a trip.

 _Then again,_ he mused, _you've never_ _ **not**_ _reached out to her first._

It was only one in an endless series of changes in their relationship, but it seemed like a more significant one somehow; he wondered if she felt it as much as he had. He couldn't help remembering what Charles Blake had told them, about how they were ending their marriage but that they'd likely still care about one another's well-being. And he realized he _did_ care about her - a good deal, in fact. She'd been with him for just over half his lifetime, and he couldn't simply snuff that out by signing his name at the bottom of a legal document. He just wasn't sure if her well-being involved _him_ anymore, and he had an ever-growing suspicion that it did not … And, he was somewhat surprised to find out, he didn't really miss her when they were apart, either.

"Charles?"

Robert's voice sounded quietly in his right ear, and he looked over to see his friend watching him as other conversations were happening all around them. The restaurant was filling up now, and the noise level was higher. Robert wasn't sure Charles had heard him, and he reached out to gently tap his friend on the shoulder.

"Hm?"

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, sorry," Charles replied sheepishly. "Just tired, I think."

"And distracted," Robert observed.

"A bit."

Robert let a moment pass, then glanced at Charles's phone and back at his face again. "No regrets, though, right?"

Charles smiled, a friendly challenge somewhere in it. "Reading over my shoulder, Robert? Tsk, tsk."

Robert chuckled softly. "Hard not to, mate. And you know I'm only concerned for you and don't mean to be nosy."

"I _do_ know," Charles said quietly, "and I thank you. But to answer your question, no regrets whatsoever. It's just … strange."

Charles looked to the other end of the long table to see Elsie and Thomas in conversation, but Elsie looked over and caught his glance, and he smiled before turning back to Robert.

"What about her?" Robert mumbled, knowing only Charles would hear.

Charles reached for his drink and sipped, rolling the wine around his tongue before swallowing it, deciding how much to trust his oldest friend.

"That's strange, too," he acknowledged, his gaze focused on the deep, burgundy wine in the glass.

Robert watched as Charles twisted the stem of the glass between his fingers, swirling the wine around in the large goblet before taking the last sip.

"Strange … good?"

Charles looked up and found Elsie hunched over some papers that she was going over with Thomas, no doubt specifics about how to divide up their filming team tomorrow.

"I wish I knew. But, as always, Elsie Hughes remains a woman of mystery - at least, to me anyhow."

"But you're … interested?" Robert could hardly believe it; Cora had confided her suspicions to her husband a while ago, and he'd vehemently denied that anything of _that_ sort was afoot.

 _Little did you know,_ Robert chided himself.

"Oh, Robert," Charles said wistfully. "I never _stopped_ being interested where _that_ one was concerned. I just spent a few decades lying to myself about it."

"Well, you _could_ do something about that, old chap. At least, I presume everything's almost finalised."

"I don't know," he replied, signaling to the waitress for another glass of wine. "I mean, yes, things should be taken care of by the end of the month. But I don't think _she's_ of the same mind."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Robert said under his breath.

" _She_ left _me,_ if you remember correctly," Charles reminded him, "which you should. You and Cora spent quite a lot of time trying to get me through that period, after all."

"I do remember. But, Charles … there are always two sides to every story."

Charles looked over at his friend, intrigued. "And do you know what that other side _is?"_

"No," Robert admitted, "and I don't think Cora does, either. But something happened when Elsie went home that year; I'm sure of it. Something besides her father dying. And I don't think that something had anything to do with _you."_

"Then why didn't she tell me?" Charles murmured, clearly still pained.

Robert sighed. "I don't know. But I think, now, she just _might_ tell you if you asked."

 **oOoOoOo**

The first two days in England were extremely productive. Mary seemed to have finally found her groove and was putting forth excellent performances as the camera rolled, which in turn made everyone interacting with her in those scenes up their game as well. She and Cora managed to bring a sort of icy-but-affectionate relationship to their characters - one that Elsie wasn't _quite_ convinced was too far removed from their actual relationship.

Thomas was happy, as was Charles. The cameras had deftly captured all of the historical aspects Charles wanted represented, making the exorbitant cost of filming on location worthwhile as far as Elsie was concerned. Details like those were important for the accuracy of the project itself, and Elsie knew those things could be talked up in interviews and reviews, reflecting well on the quality of the films that CFP was capable of putting forth. Since arriving in London, there had been some discussion of releasing the film in England _prior_ to the US release, and Elsie was fully on board with that. It would mean an extra meeting for her the next day as she tried to sort how that would play out, but it was her job and she was happy to do it.

As lunchtime rolled in on the group's fifth day in London, the skies darkened a bit and Elsie recalled the limo chauffeur's warning from when they'd arrived.

"It's going to snow today," she declared, and Charles just chuckled.

"Farm girl through and through, eh?"

"Kind of," she chuckled. "That, and I check the weather on my phone. And then there was the limo driver -"

"Point taken," Charles said, smiling as he cut her off. He walked over to the window and glanced out. "We should cancel the afternoon's shoot, I suppose. Doesn't look like the sunny atmosphere we need for those scenes. It _is_ Sunday; if we weren't on a tight schedule, they'd have been off anyhow."

"Agreed. I'll find Thomas and the others. Maybe we'll have better luck in Toronto. I suppose all grassy fields are the same if we can get close up enough." Elsie looked around the library, where they were standing. "This is my favorite room here," she said.

"Mine as well."

"Well, I'll be off, then. See you later, then?"

"Of course."

She nodded and turned, headed toward the door.

Charles licked his lips and made a split-second decision. "Elsie?"

She was almost to the door, but stopped and turned just before passing through it.

"Yes?"

"Fancy a walk? Brave the weather, as it were? It's too cloudy and dark for the shooting we had planned, but I don't think it's supposed to be bad for a while yet. We've been stuck inside for three days now without any fresh air at all, and it's beginning to make me stir-crazy."

Elsie bit down on her lip, contemplating him.

"Oh, why not?" she said with a smile. "Meet me at three?"

He returned the smile. "I'll pick you up in the lobby of the hotel. How about heading to the park at the end of the block? There's a nice path there, and we'd be close if anyone needed us."

Elsie nodded. "Sounds good. See you then."

* * *

 **I'm sorry to leave it there, and likely won't update tomorrow – or if I do, it'll be really late my time. I promise a longer, informative chapter 14 … when some of your questions will be answered. xxx**


	14. A Walk in the Park (London, Part 2)

**A/N: Disclaimer - this may very well not be a believable story line for some people. I felt it plausible, and it will be developed further later on in the story (the parts I'm referring to will be made clear when you read).**

 **Shout-out to libbybell, for reasons she will recognize instantly, and to chelsie fan for the awesome beta work. And special nod to JustSterling, whose messages only reinforced my feeling that my goal is to write a sweet Chelsie story and not necessarily a cutting-edge mystery/thriller.**

 **So ... a walk in the park. Long chapter, lots of answers. Been dying to get here. Forgive any typos, and please look on my Spotify for the song.**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Well I'm sorry**_

 _ **For the way it's gone**_

 _ **And I might be too late**_

 _ **It might be over and done ...**_

 _ **I might be too late**_

 _ **To say I'm sorry.**_

 _ **But maybe I'm late 'cause I had**_

 _ **So far to come.**_

* * *

 _ **22 January**_

As they entered the park, Charles asked Elsie about the year she took off after Uni - what she'd done for work, where she'd traveled, and so forth. Other than their days spent on set or at the office, it was their first real chunk of time together since the holidays. They nattered on, happy to be away from the set for a few hours, filling in the gaps from their Christmas Eve conversation.

Charles realized that he wanted to know everything about Elsie; the gates had been opened and then refused to be closed again, something that had been proven most recently by his conversation with Robert the other day. It would have been easy for another man to deny having feelings for Elsie beyond mere collegiality, but Robert was his best friend, and Charles simply hadn't had it in him to lie.

Before they knew it, Charles and Elsie were on their fifth turn around the central garden and it had, indeed, begun to snow. The flurries were light and they weren't yet sticking to the ground as they had in Colorado, but it was enough to create a nice atmosphere.

"And you, Charles? How _did_ you end up with Alice?" She pulled her scarf a bit tighter. "Forgive me for saying so, but she's not exactly the type of woman I'd have thought you'd marry."

He laughed - a deep, velvety sound that stirred her heart.

"I should be cross with you for that, but I suppose it's true. I _was_ always a quiet one, wasn't I?"

He was pensive for a moment, and Elsie noted that a bit of snow had gathered on the adorable curl that was falling over his brow. She remembered that curl and how it always used to drive him mad … and she remembered reaching out and touching it on Christmas Eve, that magical night when they'd somehow managed to find one another again, even if only for a little bit.

She wondered how much he'd _really_ changed from that young Charles she used to know so well. Watching him now, having walked and talked with him for well over an hour, having spent time with him over Christmas, she thought that perhaps it was not as much as she'd originally assumed. She'd made a fair few assumptions about the man he'd become that were based simply upon his marriage to Alice … but what if they had been unfair ones?

"We met on a job," he was saying. "I was consulting on a film - my first real project as an advisor - and she was hired as the star. She wasn't famous yet, of course. We were so young," he said wistfully, but then he frowned a bit. "It wasn't long after you and I -" He stopped speaking, but Elsie nodded encouragingly, the hurt finally put to rest.

"After we parted," she finished for him. "Yes."

"Right. Well, Alice and I worked together quite a bit as she was trying to get a handle on the characterization - how she should sound, her posture, things like that."

Elsie smiled softly. "And you hit it off."

"We did," he acknowledged with a nod and a raised eyebrow. "Quite well, actually, which was a surprise to me. I didn't even see it coming. She was a bit shy, as was I, but one day I asked her to dinner. The rest, as they say, is history."

"But that … changed?" Elsie prodded, inquisitive.

Charles sighed. He'd never discussed this with anyone in any great detail; not even Robert and Cora knew the ins and outs of the Carsons' marriage _or_ their divorce, not really. But Elsie was a familiar, non-threatening presence. They'd been growing closer recently, and despite the awkwardness of how his feelings were changing, he felt that they would be good friends from now on, at the very least. The hurt and anger between them at the outset seemed to have disappeared, and he decided in that instant to trust her with the whole truth.

" _She_ changed," he said at last. "And I did, too, I suppose. We've grown apart over the years; she began taking more jobs in the US, and I was centered more in London and Rome at that time. Had a history show for a couple of years, and I didn't want to give it up."

"I caught that once, when I was visiting back home," she nodded. "I liked it."

Charles smiled in thanks. "And then not too long ago, I decided to venture into representing as an agent. I'm not sure why … boredom, mostly, I think, and a desire to keep my foot in the door. They're not making many shows and films about British history these days. Not really, anyhow." He glanced over at her, only to find her watching him, nothing but kindness on her face. "I suppose I didn't want to feel redundant," he added quietly.

"And so you started with someone you knew," Elsie said. "Except I would imagine it's much harder representing someone you know personally."

"It is," he agreed. "And when I picked up Mary as a client it affected my schedule greatly, meaning much more travel, but never to the same places as Alice. Mary was only interested in auditioning in the UK for the first few months, until Violet talked her into trying out for the _Granthams_ project."

"So absence didn't really make the heart grow fonder, then?" she asked sadly, and he shook his head.

"No. I've heard that does work for some … but it didn't for us," he replied.

"And you never had children," she added. "That surprises me, having known you back then. I always had you pegged for a family man, Charlie. I'd have expected you to have _grand_ children by now."

He smiled at the truth in her statement. "Perhaps children _would_ have changed things for us. But you know how it is in this business, Elsie. Alice was worried about taking time off to have a child and then suddenly being washed up, unable to get work when she tried to come back on the scene."

"Like what happened to Cora," Elsie observed, and he nodded.

"Precisely."

"But surely you could have hired a nanny? Alice wouldn't have _had_ to be away from work for that long. Stars do that all the time."

"No."

He was emphatic about it, and she was a bit surprised.

"We disagreed about many things, but never that," he clarified, softening his tone a bit. "If we _had_ been blessed with a child, we'd have raised him or her ourselves. No nanny."

"I see."

He stopped walking for a moment and glanced around for a coffee or tea cart. It had been ages since he'd been here, but he remembered one somewhere …

 _Ah, there it is._ He touched her elbow and steered her towards it.

"What about you, Elsie?"

"Nothing that exciting, I'm afraid. Joe swept me off my feet when we first met, and he was all set to finish school when things changed suddenly - but I've already told you that."

He nodded.

"And then, well, things were lovely for a great many years … until they weren't."

"Life on a farm; that must have harkened back to your childhood, I suppose."

"I think so, yes," she agreed. "He was everything that people in this business were _not._ He had a steady job, he didn't travel much. Of course, as you said, farming was a life I knew well."

"But surely you didn't want to settle down and _just_ be a farmer's wife. Not you," he said with a hint of teasing and affection. "Elsie Hughes … always driven, with lofty goals."

She laughed. "Well, you're not wrong about _that."_

They walked on for a bit as Elsie tried to put her thoughts into sensible words; his nearness was distracting, and she kept getting whiffs of his aftershave.

"No, I made it clear that I wouldn't give up my career to be a wife. But it's nice to come back to a warm, solid home, isn't it? Something far-removed from the names in lights and the paparazzi? To have a place a bit separated from it all?"

He laughed. "I wouldn't exactly know how that works," he admitted. "I've only ever lived this life one way, since marrying Alice. I managed to keep a bit apart from the glitz when we lived _here,_ and when I was working on my own projects and she on hers, but I could never escape it in LA. I imagine you're right, yes."

"Well, Joe offered me that. Something safe and sound."

They walked for a bit, Charles mulling over what she'd said.

"And then?"

She sighed heavily. "And then … And then I woke up in LA one morning … oh, that would've been over a year ago now ... and I realized I didn't _miss_ him. That I hadn't missed him the two trips _before_ that, and that I was enjoying the little life I was crafting in California. You know how it is with small films: eighteen hour days, six days a week for months at a time. I was renting a flat, my friends were there …"

Charles hummed understandingly. "And you decided you wanted to stay."

She looked over at him and nodded. "I did. Of course I asked Joe if he'd want to move, but you can imagine how badly _that_ went."

"I'm sorry." He furrowed his brow, trying to imagine it from Joe's perspective and finding it difficult. "I suppose it must be hard for a spouse who's not in the industry, isn't it? Hard to understand how we could enjoy living the way we do. The time commitments, the travel … I imagine it's overwhelming to someone who doesn't _want_ this life."

The path was becoming a bit slick in spots, and Charles extended his elbow a bit; Elsie reached over and took his arm companionably, grateful for a chance to touch him without it seeming inappropriate.

"It _is_ hard for them; or, at least, it was for Joe. But we parted as friends. I dropped his name and went back to Hughes. It worried me that by doing so I'd lose some of my recognition in the industry, but it doesn't seem to have mattered. It was important to me to be my own person again. So now I've got my new life, and Joe still has the comfortable farm in Scotland."

"I'd like that someday," he said, loving the feel of her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow.

"A farm in Scotland?" she teased, and he laughed warmly.

"No, but a place to get away from it all. The Colorado house didn't pan out, but who knows? I'd like something tucked away in a spot no one would ever expect. Maybe … Arizona," he half-joked.

" _Arizona?"_

Charles laughed. "Perhaps. Or I'd look again in Colorado. But in the States, yes. I've already got a home in London, but really no family left in England. All my friends are across the pond ..." He hesitated. "You included, I hope."

She elbowed him playfully as they approached the coffee and tea cart. "I suppose so," she teased with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "We're getting on fine now … aren't we?"

Charles heard hesitation in her voice, and he patted her hand, nodding.

"Well, now I'll know where to begin my search when you disappear into the depths of retirement," she said dramatically, smiling brightly at him as he turned his attention to the woman at the cart.

"One tea with just a splash of milk - in first, please - and one Americano," Charles told her.

"How did you ever remember that?" Elsie marveled. "It's been _ages_ since you bought me a cuppa."

"Well," he mused, handing over the money and thanking the woman, "I suppose some things about those days have never left me."

It was a statement full of implications, and Elsie blushed as she accepted the cup with a nod of thanks to the cart's attendant.

"I see," Elsie said breathlessly.

There was a bench up against the park's conservatory, and Charles led them to it. It was out of the snowfall because of the roof's overhang, and the building blocked the wind.

Somehow, though, through the purchasing of the beverages and the locating of a place to sit, Elsie again felt as though she had to tread very carefully, as if she were losing herself to some strange combination of memories mixed with the warm, very real presence beside her. She had to remind herself that this was almost a new friendship, that they'd resolutely ignored discussing their past up to this point, and that - above all - he was _married_ … and that those things _mattered_.

But the facts remained: she'd been stunned to find him back in her life again, and she no longer felt his presence unwelcome.

Charles warmed his hands on the coffee cup, unaware of her thoughts but suddenly a bit unsure of what to say. They'd had quite a lovely afternoon, and as he reflected over the past several weeks' time spent with her, he realized that he'd _missed_ Elsie tremendously over the years … in a way he never missed Alice when he was away, or at least in a way he'd not missed her for a very, _very_ long time.

"I've missed you, Charlie," Elsie blurted out.

The stark contrast to what she'd just said about Joe - and the way she'd spoken aloud something so close to what he'd just been pondering - astounded Charles, who drew in a breath of wonder.

"No, you haven't."

"I _have,"_ she insisted quietly. "I was so uncomfortable when I first saw you again, waltzing into that meeting with Mary, but it's been nice working by your side once more. We always did make a good team."

His smile was worth all her embarrassment and more. It was brilliant, and it reached his dark-colored eyes in a way that warmed her on the _inside_ … much better than the shelter and the tea.

"We did," he agreed, lowering his eyes again and staring into his coffee.

Elsie watched him intently, wondering what it was that was eating away at him.

"You know, Elsie, this afternoon … Christmas Eve … all of it ... It makes me wonder …" he ventured carefully.

Her heart leaped. "About what?"

The tension was so thick between them. Charles could tell neither of them was breathing, just from the sheer fact that their breath would be forming foggy clouds in front of their faces if they were. But all that he could see was the steam escaping from their takeaway cups.

"Would you, really?" he asked, his low voice rumbling.

His eyes were roaming her face, and Elsie forced herself to breathe.

"Sorry … what?"

"If I disappeared. Would you … Would you look for me?"

"Are you actually _going_ somewhere?" she countered. She was stalling, and they both knew it, but she was very wary of where he was headed with all this.

"Well …" It was his turn to be nervous.

 _Now or never, old man. No one here but her._

He licked his lips. "I'm definitely not staying where I've _been."_

Her eyes flew wide open, the brilliant blue shining intently at him.

"Whatever do you mean?" The words came out in a harsh exhale, a gust of steam from her lips. "What does that _mean,_ Charlie? Are you leaving the project? Abandoning us all?"

 _Leaving_ _ **me**_ _again?_

"Nooo," he said slowly, fiddling with his cup.

And then, clear as day, she _knew._

"So it _is_ true," she whispered. "You and Alice _have_ filed for divorce, haven't you?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Yes. Just after the New Year."

"How on earth did you keep it out of the papers?" she asked, incredulous.

Charles smirked at her. "One guess."

Elsie's brow furrowed for a second, but then the penny dropped. "Of course," she nodded. "It must have been Violet."

"She's still got some clout, despite her advancing years," Charles confirmed. "But this one was a family connection; some distant cousin or other who knew the judge. And she also knows the gentleman we used for the divorce itself, so …"

"So she took care of it all." Elsie exhaled loudly. "Wow, Charlie. I _am_ sorry."

He was quiet for several moments before continuing; Elsie sipped at her tea, allowing him the time he needed.

"I think Alice has been having an affair, although that's not the reason we're divorcing," he finally said, and he realized it was the first time he'd admitted the idea of an affair out loud. "And the sad thing about it is, I'm not terribly surprised or broken up about that."

"Ohh," Elsie breathed. _He knows._

"I just wish I were _sure_ about that bit," he added, his brow scrunched up as he thought. He replayed various days in his mind, piecing it together again, looking at all the so-called clues he'd been examining over the past few months … when Alice came home late, the day her blouse was buttoned wrong despite her typical impeccable appearance, mussed hair once, and two receipts in the trash that were from a men's accessory store that Charles hated. "I suppose it doesn't matter. It hasn't worked between us for a long time, really."

"Charlie," she said, aware of the need to tread carefully. "I don't really know how to put this, but _I'm_ sure. I saw her … _them_ … together."

His jaw dropped in shock. "You _what?"_

"The night we all went to dinner - us, Robert, Cora, and Thomas," she admitted.

"Wait … They were at the Bel Air? At the _same hotel_ we went to?" Charles stared at Elsie, who looked for all the world as though she wished she'd not said a thing. He racked his brain, the conversation coming back to him …

" _I'll get a ride from Robert, so no worries there."_

" _Where are you all going?"_

" _The Wolfgang Puck at the Bel-Air."_

" _Oh, lovely - you always do drool over the wine collection there …"_

"- didn't know it at the time," Elsie was saying, "because I'd only met him once, but I think it was Charlie Grigg she was with."

Charles's head was spinning. "Who?"

"That man that hangs around the lot - you know, bit scruffy, not too tall, always doing odd jobs here and there."

"But," he sputtered, "how come you never _told_ me?"

"I couldn't, Charles."

"Whyever not? Huh. Charlie Grigg. Yes, I know who you mean - just never knew his name. Well, I must say, that _is_ a surprise. I'd just assumed it was someone who'd actually further her career, not bring it down."

"I'm sorry."

"You should have told me, Elsie. You could have at least told _someone._ What about Cora? She'd have been _thrilled_ to have broken that news to me," he scoffed.

"I couldn't tell Cora, either," she said. "It just … it wouldn't have looked right."

Charles turned in his seat to face her. "I don't understand you."

"No," she murmured, chewing on her lip. "You wouldn't. I just … I didn't want to interfere," she said weakly.

He heaved a harsh sigh. "Well, I was right, then, about Alice. At least there's that."

"You were." Elsie began playing with the edge of the cup, running her thumbnail around it. "Is she fighting you?"

"Over the divorce? No," he said. "We never see each other, not really, and I have no real interest in living in the Hollywood Hills for the rest of my days."

"And she does?"

"She's _been_ living there," he admitted, embarrassed. "The flat we're in now? We purchased it two years ago, and she's not left once. I'd fly out and spend time with her when I wasn't in the middle of my own projects, but I've mostly been in London. I'm surprised you didn't know she'd moved, actually, given that you've been in LA for a while now."

"Well, I've been busy with my own things," she reminded him. "I don't read the gossip rags and don't watch those horrid Hollywood trash programs, either, and my projects are usually historical or otherwise. So I miss things, and I don't move in blockbuster circles, really."

"Apparently."

"And, you have to remember, I didn't even know she _was_ your wife until fairly recently. One hears names here and there, but …" She shrugged.

He nodded, licked his lips, and sipped his coffee; it startled him when he felt her hand gently squeeze his forearm.

"I am sorry, Charlie," she told him. "I know how hard it is to watch one's marriage break up."

"Oh, Elsie. Don't pity me," he nearly begged. "I couldn't handle that … not from you."

"I don't pity you," she told him kindly. "But it breaks my heart that you've clearly been so unhappy for so very long." She shook her head. "I'm certain you've never deserved that."

He forced a smile, trying to ignore how her touch was nearly searing him despite their layers of coats and sweaters. _"Are_ you? There was once a time when my happiness didn't matter as much to you."

The comment stung, but she felt she deserved it, in part; still, he'd not made much of an effort, either, all those years ago.

"I never wished you ill, Charlie," she chided softly. "In fact …" Her voice died in her throat, but it was too late anyhow.

"In fact ...?" he prompted. "What?"

Elsie stood up suddenly, taking two steps away from him but turning halfway so that he saw her profile against the grey sky. The past descended upon her like a monsoon.

 _It's time,_ she told herself. _For better or worse._

"I _was_ angry with you, Charles. So very angry," she whispered tearfully. "I loved you so very much, and when I needed you, when I finally allowed myself to reach out and tell you everything, you weren't there. I never wished you ill. I wanted you to be happy even if it couldn't be with me," she added, turning to face him again and wiping angrily at her eyes. "This is stupid; I shouldn't be crying. It was so long ago; you moved on. _We_ moved on."

Her words hit him in the chest like a boulder, knocking the wind right out of him. He gasped, drawing in harsh, cold air, and shook his head, unable to believe what she'd just said.

"How do you mean, _I_ wasn't there? _You_ returned all my letters, stopped taking my calls … You say you told me everything, but you told me _nothing,_ Elsie."

Elsie's eyes widened and then her brow wrinkled in astonishment. "What in hell are you talking about?" The words were a harsh whisper, and he could tell she was so very confused … he just didn't know why.

"My letters, Elsie. They started coming back, unopened, and then you never wrote again. I thought … well, it was obvious you didn't want anything to do with me anymore."

"But I didn't return any letters," she whispered. "I read them _all._ I _replied._ I told you …" She froze, then clapped her hand over her mouth, suddenly nauseous. "Oh, my God …"

"You read th- Elsie, _how many_ did you read? Do you remember?" His heart was racing; he had a sudden, horrible suspicion, one that he dared not believe might be true ... and yet part of him _knew_ he was right. He could see on her face that she'd just reached the same inevitable conclusion.

"How many?" Elsie replied. She thought back … "Four, I think. But one came much later than the rest. The one where you asked me to be in touch again, with you, or even Cora … that was the third. But I'd written a letter the day before that one arrived, explaining it all … and then once more after that. The only other time I heard from you was when you'd moved to the States, and you'd written to tell me you were marrying someone else."

He just shook his head; he'd never received the letter she was talking about … or any other.

"Elsie," he said, his voice shaking, "I never _received_ any letter that explained what had happened to you. And I sent _eight_ in total," he whispered tearfully, and he rolled his eyes and began pacing. "The first three you obviously got, and then four more came back unopened _._ The only other one that didn't was the one I wrote when I was moving to the States."

"But I never sent …" Her eyes were moving almost wildly as she focused inward, remembering ... "O-oh my God, Charlie," she gasped. "M-My Mam …" She realized she was stuttering, having trouble stringing together the horrible truth that she'd only now come to see.

"You never even received them, never even _saw_ the other envelopes, did you?"

She shook her head, fresh tears escaping the corner of her right eye.

Charles could barely breathe; it never occurred to him before today that she'd never even _received_ the letters. They'd spoken by phone in the beginning, but those letters had gone through … and then she stopped calling … He shook his head, feeling dazed.

"Oh, hell," he whispered. "I thought … I mean, I had no way to know …"

"I know."

He somehow swallowed the huge lump in his throat.

"I … I moved on," he said. "Eventually. Because I stopped hearing from you. It didn't _seem_ like you to ignore me, to refuse my attempts to reach out, but I had no idea what happened. Robert and Cora hadn't heard from you in a while, and then all my letters starting coming back, and yours stopped coming …"

Elsie said nothing. She couldn't, because her mind was exploding with the reality of what had happened.

 _All these years,_ she thought. _Thinking he stopped caring, that he couldn't manage to wait for me. All of_ _ **my**_ _letters! Oh, my God … She never sent those, either, not to him ..._

"And so you left," she whispered, her voice harsh with sadness and something bordering on rage toward a mother long-since departed.

"Elsie, I thought … I thought you wanted to get away from me _._ We'd been fighting quite often before you left, hadn't we? I thought you wanted a break. You barely came down to visit me anymore once I'd graduated. And then you packed up and left like a thief in the night, leaving me only a brief note explaining that your father had died."

"And then I didn't return," she acknowledged, nodding in understanding at last. "And after the first couple of weeks, you never heard from me again. Jesus …"

Charles laughed harshly, running his fingers through his snow-damp hair. "I can't believe this. To this day I _still_ don't know why you never came back.

"It was because of Becky that I stayed," she whispered. "And when I got home, I barely had a moment to myself. When I did, I was sleeping."

She took a deep breath, knowing she had to assume some of the blame for the mess in which they'd found themselves.

"And you and I _had_ been fighting, Charlie, but it was always about stupid things, wasn't it? And then you wrote to say you were taking a job in the States, that you'd met someone else and were getting married. And so I thought, 'Well, that's that.'"

"Of course," he realized. "She would pass through the one postmarked from America. My God, Elsie. Your Mam really hated me, didn't she?"

Elsie rolled her eyes. "Oh, Charlie. I can't believe this is happening."

She turned her back to him as her tears began to fall, but she didn't miss his question.

"Wait ... Elsie, who's Becky?"

He saw her shoulders shake as her head drooped, and he looked down at the cup still clutched in his hand. Seeing a bin beside the bench, he chucked the half-full cup in it; in three steps, he was standing before her.

"Elsie?"

He gently slid her tea cup out from between her fingers and tossed that into the bin, too, before reaching his hands back toward her and caressing her cheeks gently, grateful that his fingers had been warmed from holding his own drink.

She gasped as his thumbs brushed her cheeks, and she allowed her eyes to close.

"She was, in all the ways that matter, my sister," she whispered. "And I can't bear to go through it all now, but my Da died, and Becky … I knew she couldn't do it … I had to go; I spent every minute by her side."

He shook his head; she wasn't making any sense.

"But ... a _sister?_ Why didn't you ever _tell_ me? Damn it, Elsie, we told each other _everything_ back then, didn't we? How could you leave out that you had a _sister?"_

"I couldn't tell you," she insisted, shaking her head. "I'd given my word. I _will_ tell you eventually, but I couldn't do it then and I can't do it today."

Her regret was pouring off of her; it broke Charles's heart, and he drew her close.

As Charles wrapped her up in his arms, she breathed in the scent of him once again ... the dark, woodsy something that made her think of long study sessions and fumbling in the dark of his dorm room, of Christmas Eve last month and Christmas cookies baking years ago, of stage plays at Uni and long walks in the woods when they'd talked about anything and everything.

 _Well …_ _ **almost**_ _everything. Like today,_ she realized.

"Oh, Elsie," he murmured. "Do you mean to tell me that you've spent thirty-odd years hating me because of some colossal _misunderstanding?_ Because your Mam undermined us both?"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head against his chest. "Resenting you, perhaps, because I assumed you were happier _without_ me than you'd ever been _with_ me. But not hating you. I never could."

He inhaled slowly; she could _feel_ it, being up against his chest as she was. It was a deep breath that he wasn't letting go, and his heart rate had quickened.

"I wasn't," he told her. "I was married, but I was never happier without you than I had been _with_ you. Alice … well … she was never _you,_ Elsie."

 _Oh …_

She moved in his arms, tilting her head back to look at him, to see the truth in his eyes.

He stood there, drinking in her features: her sparkling, deep blue eyes, the faint wrinkles around them, the soft lines around her mouth, and the way her hair was showing more grey than he'd thought before.

"Oh, Elsie," he breathed, letting the air from his lungs at last. "God help me, but ... I _love_ you." He breathed out a short laugh. "Again? Or, perhaps, _still_ … I think I always have."

He leaned slowly downward, and rested his lips against her forehead.

"Charlie," she forced herself to say, "we _can't."_

"I know." The movement of his lips against her forehead tickled, and she smiled.

They stood like that for a few minutes, until he got the nerve to say aloud the thing that had been weighing so heavily on his mind and heart.

"Will you wait for me?" he asked quietly.

She looked deeply into his eyes, realizing that - as she'd expected - they contained the answers to all of her hopes and dreams.

"I will," she whispered, and she reached up and brushed away a single tear that had fallen from his lashes. "I think that, maybe, somewhere deep down inside of me, I've been waiting for you for a very, _very_ long time."

 **oOoOoOo**

She couldn't believe her luck and willed the battery on her phone to stay alive long enough for another minute. Snapping a couple of stills while the camcorder was recording, she smiled sadly, hoping that this would be enough.

The phone died in her hand about ten seconds after she watched Mr. Carson lean down and kiss Ms. Hughes on the forehead.

 _Yup,_ she thought gleefully, tucking back behind the tea cart and walking briskly toward the park's exit. _That should be enough._

She tucked into the nearest pub and ordered a martini.

"You don't by any chance have a charger tucked down there, do you?" A bat of her long eyelashes was all it took, and the bartender smiled.

"I'm not supposed to do this," he said quietly, looking left and right before trailing a charger cord over the bar counter. "It's mine, and I'm not even supposed to have it here."

"Five minutes," she promised. "And I'll keep my arm on it the entire time."

He smiled; he was handsome, she thought, which was a pity. In another life, she'd have considered asking him out.

When the phone turned on again, she scrolled to the last still she took and zoomed in.

 _Pay dirt._

She had a crystal clear still of the executive producer from CFP reaching up to brush a tear from the face of the historian-turned-agent.

 _The very_ _ **married**_ _Charles Carson,_ she thought.

She looked a bit more closely and smiled.

 _And that look in his eyes is going to be the Crawleys' undoing._

By the time she wrote the article and next Sunday's papers went to press, that little photograph would be all over Hollywood's front pages. She'd have a check in her pocket, and a whole new life would await.

 **I'd love to know what you thought! xxx**


	15. A Shock

**A/N: Thanks once again for all the thoughtful reviews. For the guests to whom I cannot reply directly, please rest assured that I've received and enjoyed all of your comments (even the person who doesn't like the newspaper story line – hey ho, that's a reader's prerogative, and I'm glad you're still on board for the Chelsie). I would like to say that my take on the entire divorce stems from a great deal of personal experience. Not all divorces involve hateful parties who are at one another's throats, and it's perfectly plausible for people who have been together for ages to still care about one another even though they may not be able to stay married. If you're here for a horrid, drawn-out cat fight of a divorce, or for a Charlie or Alice who cannot stand one another, I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed. Alice texted Charles because she knew he was traveling and cares about him, divorce or no.**

 **In true Hollywood fashion, we're off to film a bit in Toronto! (Not a joke, folks. Lots of filming happens there.) I had a great deal of fun writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it. I think it's one of my favorites.**

 **My thanks, as always, to chelsie fan. Her help has been immeasurable.**

 **Updates should come every other day from this point forward.**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **23-24 January**_

As the plane landed in Toronto, Charles took his phone off of airplane mode and tucked it back into his jacket pocket, ignoring the repetitive buzzing that he knew meant various notifications and emails coming in. He reached up and removed his carry-on from the overhead compartment and set it on the floor, _more_ than ready to be off of the plane.

The flight from London to Toronto had been miserable. Take-off had been delayed because of fog, and then the turbulence had been awful for the first four hours of the flight. All he'd wanted to do was sleep, but sleep had come in small spurts of about fifteen minutes apiece … and not many of those had come at all.

He glanced up the aisle to where Elsie was standing, waiting to exit, and he shook his head when she looked back and her eyes met his. Her glance had been inquisitive, something along the lines of _Can you believe how awful that flight was?_

The line started moving, and they exited the plane onto the jetway, meeting up at the end of it by the chairs in the boarding area.

"How're you holding up?" Elsie asked him, her voice laced with fatigue.

"I'll be much better once I've been fed and tucked into bed," he chuckled. "Come on; let's find the others and get out of here."

 **oOoOoOo**

Charles, Elsie, Mary, Joseph, and Cora shared a shuttle to the hotel. No one spoke, really, as they'd been up for almost twenty-four hours with very little sleep on the plane. The scant filming crew, two other actors, and Thomas were in another shuttle, and it had been decided that they'd arrive, check in, _sleep,_ and regroup in the morning.

Elsie checked her watch: _Quarter to nine_ _. Except it's more like two in the morning._ She yawned widely, cursing the five o'clock wake-up call that had started her day.

Charles was watching her intently; his heart fluttered at the sight of her, thinking once again how perfect she was in her imperfection.

 _Alice would_ _ **never**_ _want to appear tired like this,_ he thought. _She'd see it as weak._ He couldn't help but notice how vastly different Elsie was: honest, true, and - most importantly - _real._

He found he couldn't wait to get to the hotel.

 **oOoOoOo**

"I'm sorry?"

"Two of the rooms you've booked are connecting, ma'am," the receptionist at the hotel was saying. "Room two-one-two-four and room two-one-two-six. But there are locks on either side."

Charles reached past her and took the key cards from the receptionist.

"Thank you," he told her. "It doesn't matter; we're all friends, and we really just need to sleep."

"We have you here for …" The woman typed something on her keyboard. "… six nights, with transport back to the airport the afternoon you check out. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Elsie said. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, ma'am. Welcome to Toronto."

Elsie smiled and joined Charles by the rest of the group.

"Here we go," he was saying, handing the keys to Thomas. "Everyone take a key, then go up and get some rest."

"I'm staying up as long as possible," Elsie heard Mary say. "Too excited to sleep, and it's early, local time."

"You do what you wish," Charles said. "But it's three in the morning now, according to my inner clock, and I've had two hours of sleep in the past twenty-two. My plans involve dinner, a decent wine, and bed."

Elsie just chuckled as she pocketed her key card and headed straight for the elevator. She managed to be the first one up to their floor and congratulated herself on being able to open the door on the first go given her lack of sleep.

 **oOoOoOo**

Stepping out of the shower and onto the plush floor mat, Elsie felt almost human again.

The days prior to and of their departure had decidedly _not_ gone according to plan; extra scenes needing to be filmed, a taxi break-down, a forgotten bag at the hotel, and an almost-missed flight due to outrageously long check-in lines at the airport had almost sent Elsie right over the edge. They were lucky the flight had been delayed, and they knew it. The weather had been the last straw, though, and Elsie had exited the plane feeling like half the person she normally was.

But after a stiff drink, a hot shower, and a call in to room service, all was looking right with the world.

The knock on the door startled her, and she grabbed the plush, white robe from the bathroom hook and stuffed herself into it, tying the belt tightly as made her way to the door and peered through the peephole.

 _No one there? That's odd._

But then a second knock sounded, and a wave of unease fluttered through her as she realized it was coming from the door connecting her room to her neighbor's. She walked swiftly to the envelope containing her key card and read the number again, not sure she'd had it right in her memory:

 _Twenty-one, twenty-six. Oh, don't even tell me …_

The knock came again, and Elsie brushed away a lock of hair that had escaped the towel atop her head. She approached the connecting door and looked through _that_ peephole, already knowing whom she'd find standing there.

 _Of course._

She opened the door to see Charles standing on the other side. He looked positively _ghastly._

"Charles? Are you all right?" She was frightened for a moment; she knew he had a heart condition, and her first thought was that the long day and horrible flight had somehow sent him into heart failure; it wasn't a realistic fear, but it was the best her unfed and slightly-buzzed brain could come up with at the moment.

He was holding his hand out to her, a look bordering on fear upon his face; he was pale, _very_ pale, and Elsie had to stare at his chest for a moment to be sure he was breathing.

"Read it," he whispered, and she looked down at his hand again and realized he was clutching his phone.

She snatched it from his grasp and looked at the screen … which was blank. Tapping on the home button, she revealed only the key code screen.

"Charles?" She handed it back to him, and he rolled his eyes with a huff and typed in his four-digit code; watching him do it, she realized the numbers signified his birthday. She laughed at that, but he looked at her crossly.

"Read."

She took the phone from him again and scanned the screen. It was a text … from Alice.

 _Blake just called. It's done, Charles. Judge approved, no delay. As of this morning, we're officially divorced._

She looked up at him, and he was clearly in shock.

"Oh, come on through," she muttered, taking his arm and pulling him into her room. He complied silently, and she pointed at the plush armchair by the window. "Sit," she ordered, and he did.

Elsie made her way to the small mini-bar and scanned the contents; knowing Charles, she reached past the cheap wines and grabbed one of the nips of gin, pouring it and a helping of tonic into a glass and placing it in his hand.

"Drink."

He drank.

Elsie grabbed her pyjamas and headed into the bathroom. She pulled the pants and oversized top on, towel-dried her hair, combed it, and then threw it into a wet braid. By the time she exited the bathroom, Charles had finished the drink and looked a bit more human.

"I'm sorry," he said instantly, but she waved his apology away and sat on the bed, opposite his chair.

"Don't be. I'm sure it was a shock. Were you expecting it to come through this week?" He'd mentioned that they had submitted the paperwork recently, but she knew precious little about how the process worked in the US.

"I had no idea _when_ to expect it," he said quietly. "We were told it would depend on the judge and his or her schedule."

"And you filed just after the New Year, you said?"

"On the second," he said. "Yes."

"Well, then." She didn't even know what else to say. "Are you okay, Charlie?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out; he was just staring at a random spot in her room, clearly still somewhat in shock.

Elsie glanced at the clock, noting that room service would be showing up at any moment. She was starving and had likely ordered enough for two.

"Have you eaten?"

He shook his head.

"Then stay," she said calmly. "I've got food showing up at any -"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door and a faint, "Room service!" from the other side.

"Never mind," she laughed, making her way to the door; she signed the slip and took the tray, allowing the delivery girl to close the door behind her.

"What've you ordered?" Charles asked.

"Flatbread with figs and arugula," she said, "a salad, and a pot of decaf."

Charles raised an eyebrow, but she shot him down.

"Don't judge. I need to sleep, but I needed something hot."

Charles stood up and lifted the lid off of the pizza. "That does look good," he admitted, and Elsie heard his stomach rumble, which caused her to chuckle.

"Here," she said, handing him a fork, knife, and napkin. She found it curious that they'd sent up two settings, but she assumed it was because she ordered two dishes. "Dig in."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Elsie looked over at his raised eyebrow and saw him glance at her attire.

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "We're starving and exhausted, and you need a friend."

The look on his face almost broke her heart: love, hurt, fatigue, and admiration, all rolled into one.

"All true," he acknowledged. "Thank you."

He helped himself to pizza and a bit of the salad, then poured coffee for them both.

"Cheers," Elsie said, clinking her cup against his. "To better days."

He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

 **oOoOoOo**

They were laughing uproariously an hour and a half later - quite overtired, indeed - at a story Elsie was relating about one of her first days working at CFP. The pizza was long gone, and all that remained of the salad were the mushrooms that they both hated with a passion. The coffee pot had been empty for ages, and Elsie had dived back into the mini-bar, settling for the wine for herself and handing Charles the nip of Scotch she'd found.

"I know you don't want to give this up," he'd told her, but she'd shaken her head.

"It's fine. I can call down for more if I change my mind."

That had been about half an hour prior; room service returned after that and dropped off what Charles called a "proper bottle of wine" for Elsie and a fresh Scotch and soda for him five minutes ago.

"To you," Charles rumbled. "With my thanks."

"For what?"

He looked fondly into her eyes. "For understanding," he said softly, his eyebrows raised a bit. "And listening to me in my fatigue-laced state, despite your desire for some sleep of your own."

They touched glasses, and Elsie took a large swallow of wine.

"Ohh," she breathed. "That's good."

"I'd never lead you astray," Charles answered quickly, but he blushed a bit at the double-entendre she may have read into the words.

"Mm-hm," she replied, sipping the wine again. "I know."

As they continued to chat on about mostly insignificant things, Elsie felt the atmosphere between them electrify, felt it change somehow into something with which she wasn't altogether comfortable. Eventually, she looked over at Charles and found him unbuttoning the topmost button of his collar; she noticed the rumpled look to his hair, the tiredness in his eyes … and she felt how very much in love with him she truly was.

She also realized belatedly how _close_ he was. He'd pulled one of her chairs from the dining table over by the bed, sitting close enough to rest his glass on the nightstand. Elsie was cozied up against her headboard, and suddenly she was a bit self-conscious about the intimacy of the entire scene.

"You should go," she said suddenly, a bit flustered, and Charles looked up to find her eyes darkened as they rested upon his face.

"It _is_ late," he admitted, but he didn't move. He slowly finished his drink and then set the glass on the tray before standing and extending a hand to Elsie, silently encouraging her to get off the bed and stand before him.

"Charlie …" Her voice died away as her hands touched his.

"Do you not trust me?" he asked softly, pulling her into a standing position before him.

"No, it's not that," she whispered. "But … this isn't a good idea," she said firmly. "Not tonight."

"I know, and my intentions are proper, I assure you." And then he chuckled. "I'm too tired for anything of _that_ sort anyhow, I think. I just … May I hold you for a moment?"

She smiled. "Sure," she said, and she placed her arms around his waist as he wrapped her up in his own. They'd not touched each other since their walk in the park a few days before, and she'd felt almost starved for his touch again, for the closeness they'd had that afternoon. She felt he was working up to something, but she wasn't sure what it was. It had been such a long, eventful day for everyone, but particularly for Charles; she worried a bit about him, knowing that he really needed a good night's sleep to help put his mind right again.

They stood together for several minutes, until Charles managed to give voice to what was weighing so heavily upon him.

"I love you," he whispered, and his breath was warm on her head. "I know the timing is horrible, and it sounds like some kind of rebound reaction, but I hope you know it's not."

"I do," she replied with a smile, and she shifted her head to place a kiss over his heart. "But, tonight, you need to sleep alone. You need to sleep, _period,_ and so do I."

They stood wrapped up in one another's arms for a few more precious minutes before Charles loosened his hold and dropped his hands to her waist, placing a kiss to her forehead.

"Might I have a proper kiss goodnight?" he asked with a smirk. "Now that I am, for all intents and purposes, an eligible bachelor once again?"

"Oh, why not?" Elsie smiled up at him and winked, then slid her hands up and over his chest, dangling them over his shoulders as he leaned in.

"Charles?" He was mere inches away from her lips, but he stopped and opened his eyes to stare into hers.

"Yes?" he breathed.

"I love you, too, you know. Just so we're clear."

He smiled, then closed the gap between them. His soft lips touched her own, and the familiarity of the _feel_ of her put his heart and mind right at last.

When they broke apart, having kept the kiss rather chaste, Elsie smiled at him and brushed her fingers across his brow, pushing the unruly curl back a bit.

"That was nice," she said. "And I look forward to _many_ more of those … but not now."

"I know," he said, backing away.

He gathered her dirty glass and plate and stacked everything on the tray, which he placed on the dresser before heading back to the connecting door.

"Good night, Elsie. And _thank you."_

"My pleasure," she said, and she licked her lips before adding, "See you tomorrow."

Charles tilted his head to her. "I look forward to it."

He passed through the door and turned to blow her a kiss; when she returned it, he closed the door and slid the bolt through it, already looking forward to greeting her in the morning.

 _It's the first day of the rest of your life, mate,_ he told himself while changing for bed. _Don't screw it up._

* * *

 **I'm so happy they're together ... sort of. Please leave a word of review if you're so inclined. xx**


	16. One Night

**A/N: HI! *waves* Thanks for all the love, folks. We are here in Toronto, where stuff's getting real. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, although after a couple of reviews on the LAST one, I'm throwing it out there with a bit of trepidation.**

 **Do let me know what you think.**

 ***Slightly M rated chapter* It's about as M as this story gets ... there are writers who are amazing with heavy, smutty writing. I am not one of those people! :)**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **24-25 January**_

The cast and crew in Toronto managed to drag themselves out of bed and meet for breakfast by ten in the morning. Elsie had finally managed to get to sleep just before one o'clock, local time, and was so grateful to have slept a full nine hours - and grateful, too, that she'd showered the night before and didn't have to get up earlier to do so.

"Good morning, all," she said cheerfully, sitting between Cora and Mary and selecting a pastry from the basket on the table.

"You're chipper today," Thomas grumbled, and Elsie smiled gently at him.

"Did you not sleep?"

"Took this one's advice," he said, jerking his thumb in Mary's direction. "Stayed up as late as possible. Got six hours of _very_ interrupted sleep and then woke up and realized what a long day we have today."

"We're scheduled to finish at six tonight," Elsie reassured him. "You'll be fine. Just go to bed by eight, Thomas. Trust me."

He nodded as he poured a third cup of coffee and spooned in a large helping of sugar.

"What's the filming schedule today?" Charles asked, and Elsie pushed a piece of paper across the table so that he could read it.

"Here," she said, pointing to a map at the top of the page. "We need to get a few shots in this park, and then we travel here," she added, moving her fingertip, "and get some shots on the farm we've rented out." She pushed another sheet over to him; it contained several stills of the farm and some of her personal notes. "It's very turn of the century in style and architecture, and we got it for a steal."

Charles examined the photographs and then looked back at the schedule printed below the map. "Very good. So those are well before sundown?"

She nodded.

"We'll be finished _before_ six, then," Cora said.

"Well, accounting for clean up and such, not much before," Elsie replied.

"And the prop places are here?" Charles asked, indicating a spot further ahead on the map.

"Yes. You and Joseph will go … wait," she said, scanning those seated at the table. "Where _is_ Joseph?"

"Oh, trust me, _he_ had a rougher night than I had," Thomas said snidely. "He decided to drink himself to sleep, except he had a bit _too_ much …"

"Don't even _tell_ me he's hungover," Elsie nearly growled.

"He might be if he ever wakes up," Thomas said. "I heard him at all hours last night, though, as he was right next door." He sipped his coffee. "Wasn't pretty," he added.

"Fabulous," Charles grumbled. "I was hoping not to go alone; I'd rather like another opinion on one or two of the items."

"Elsie, could you manage to get away with Charles to take care of that?" Cora asked.

Elsie and Charles looked simultaneously over at her, stunned into silence.

"I'd go, but I've been ordered to bed," Thomas added with a smirk. "What time is the appointment?"

"Five o'clock," Charles said. "It'll take one to two hours; they've got about ten things to show us that have been preselected, and then I need to poke around some of the local antique shops for a few things that Joseph added to the list."

"Could you do the small shops beforehand?" Cora enquired.

"Not if I'm to go," Elsie quipped. "I'll be with you lot."

Charles felt the need to put an end to the entire conversation - and _quickly._

"What if you meet me at the prop house afterwards?" he suggested to Elsie. "I'll get to the smaller shops, where nothing I'm looking for really requires an outside opinion. And I could meet you at the prop warehouse at five to meet with Mr. Smythe. It would actually be very helpful to have your opinion; no one else - save for Joseph and myself - has the entire feel for the _look_ of the production like you have."

"Well, then," she said, blushing faintly as she wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "It looks as though the decision has been made. Thomas? You'll be all set to wrap up without me?"

"Sure thing."

"Good," Elsie said. "I'm glad that's all settled."

"Me, too," Cora said with a smile, and she nudged Elsie's foot underneath the table.

Elsie shot her a nasty look, but it occurred to her belatedly that Cora and Robert had been privy to the Neal-Carson divorce before anyone else had … and it was quite likely that they knew it had gone through, too.

Charles stood up from the table.

"I'm going to knock on Joseph's door," he grumbled. "It's time we all got started."

 **oOoOoOo**

Elsie and Charles were on their way to a restaurant (after a very successful hour and a half at the props warehouse) when Charles reached for Elsie's hand. It startled her, but she looked over to him and smiled warmly, squeezing his fingers in hers.

"Aren't you afraid someone will see us?" she asked.

"No," he said firmly. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with it _now,_ is there?"

"I suppose not," she admitted, looking across the street. "How about that one, hey?"

Charles followed her gaze and glanced at the front of the small French restaurant.

"Perfect."

They were seated at a cozy table in the corner, just by the front window. Soft music was playing and Charles selected a bottle of wine while Elsie took care of choosing their meals.

"Thank you for doing that; I don't speak French," Charles said sheepishly.

"I know," she murmured, closing her menu. "I've met you, remember?"

His laugh startled her with its volume and heartiness.

They didn't exactly rush through dinner, but neither did they want to linger. The night was gorgeous and clear, albeit cold, and the desire to walk leisurely back to the hotel was too great to ignore.

"You know the city well," Charles observed as Elsie led him down a series of side streets.

"I do. We filmed a project here a number of years back. Independent film; never really had much success, but it was a lovely job. I was an assistant then, so I had a bit more free time when the exec was stuck in meetings. Explored quite a bit."

Much of their time walking back was spent in silence, but when they ended up on a boardwalk by the beach, Charles stopped and grabbed Elsie's free hand, pulling her towards him. Wordlessly, he set his large tote bag on the ground and took hers, setting it just alongside, and then drew her into his arms. She looked up into his eyes, somewhat cognizant of the lapping lake water sounding to her left as his lips slowly descended upon her own.

He was gentle at first, but Elsie found herself rather impatient; she opened her mouth a bit and nibbled his lip playfully, and he was only too happy to return the favor.

When his tongue touched hers, he quite literally had to hold her up in his strong arms to keep her knees from buckling.

They broke apart, and he touched his forehead to hers.

"Come to my room tonight," he murmured. "Please?"

Elsie leaned back to be able to see him properly, and she quirked an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

"Charles Carson," she said accusingly, "did you _intentionally_ give us adjoining rooms just so that you could get me into your bed and no one would be the wiser?"

"Actually," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. "Oh! That's cold. Um … no, I didn't. But I will admit that when I saw your door closing behind you just as the doors of the lift opened to let _me_ out, I found it rather tempting."

" _Tempting?"_

"Well," he said softly, tilting his head and placing one quick kiss to her lips, "Sort of. But I thought I was still married then, so I didn't think I should act upon that."

"And now you're not. Well, Charlie … you don't waste much time, do you?"

He looked guilty. "I hope I've not offended you."

"No," she smiled. "I'm not offended."

"Actually," he said, feeling that full disclosure was the best idea, "I'm rather out of practice with all of … that."

"Are you?" She was a bit shocked.

Charles nodded. "I am. Look, I don't wish to make you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry if my … suggestion … did so. Even if all we did was sleep …"

Elsie reached up and cupped his cheek. "Oh, you old booby," she teased. "You haven't made me uncomfortable. I mean, I _did_ think you'd planned that bit with the rooms, but now that I think back, those keys were passed out with no rhyme or reason."

"They were," he confirmed.

"Well, then, Mr. Carson," she said, trailing her hand down the lapel of his coat, "what say we head on back and see where we end up?"

 **oOoOoOo**

As it happened, they ended up in _her_ bed and not his.

He'd dropped the props off with the concierge, with specific instructions for which items would be shipped ahead to LA and which needed to be carefully packaged for taking on the plane.

"Yes, Mr. Carson," the concierge had said, furrowing her brow at how he didn't seem focused on her at all, despite the conversation they were having.

In the time that it had taken Charles to sort everything downstairs, Elsie had managed to make it to her room, unlock her side of their connecting doors, and change. She was grateful to have packed a halfway-decent nightgown and not _only_ the tees and pyjama pants he'd seen her in the night before. She was also grateful for the two candles tucked into her valise; she often traveled with them, finding they were a small touch of home when she spent so much time on the road, and she set them out to light.

This time, the knock on the door didn't startle her. She opened it to find him standing there, pullover sweater and necktie already discarded, his top shirt button undone, and a bottle of wine in his hand.

He almost _dropped_ the bottle when he saw her.

"You know," he said, his voice thick with desire as he reached out and ran his finger underneath the navy blue strap of the nightgown, "you really should be careful when opening hotel room doors without asking 'Who's there?'"

"Evidently," she replied, taking the bottle and placing it on the table nearest the door. "You look very much like a wolf coming to devour me, Charlie."

"Close," he admitted, and with two more steps he was fully in her room, kicking the door shut behind himself as he scooped her up in his arms; her hands clasped behind his neck as she began teasing him with soft, sensual kisses until he put her down again.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "That was some welcome."

She smiled, but backed away and opened the wine, poured them each a glass, and clinked hers against his.

"A toast," she declared. "To new beginnings."

"To new beginnings," he repeated.

They stood there staring at each other for a moment before Elsie made for the chairs at her table; she sat, and Charles took the chair opposite, pulling it out a bit and stretching out his legs in front of him.

They were nervous, and both realized it.

"I feel like we're misbehaving," Elsie admitted. "Like we're being naughty and going to be caught out."

"We're not university students anymore," he reminded her with a smirk. "Although that night in your dormitory _was_ rather mortifying."

Elsie sighed deeply, taking a large sip of her wine and swallowing it slowly.

"I know that, in your mind, you've been single for a while now," she said thoughtfully. "And goodness knows I have been. But …"

She shrugged, looking down into her wine glass as she chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"Look, Elsie ... I can go back," he said after a moment. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I don't mean to press you."

Her big, blue eyes met his darker ones. "I'm not _afraid,_ Charlie. And I don't feel pressured or anything. It's not like you're asking me to do something I don't _want_ to do." Her voice died down to a quiet murmur. "I _do_ want this … very much."

"But …?"

"But I'm … well … _older_ now, Charlie." A short laugh escaped her mouth. "If your mind is filled with memories and expectations of … well, of my much _younger_ self …"

"Stop."

His voice wasn't angry, but his tone _did_ surprise her. It was strong, but there was a touch of sadness in there, too.

"I am well aware that we're not in our twenties anymore," he said lowly. "I have no unreasonable expectations of … well, anything, believe me." He sat up a bit straighter in his chair and lowered his voice. "And believe me when I say that, in my eyes, you are _beautiful._ And I want very, very much to have you back in my life in a _very_ significant way."

"But …" She couldn't help it; it was like a spectre in the room, and it was haunting her - _had been_ haunting her for weeks, even when she didn't think she stood a chance to be sitting in an hotel room with him now. "You've spent the last thirty-plus years married to one of the most beautiful actresses in the world, Charlie, and I'm … well, _me."_

 _Ahhh,_ he thought. _There it is._

He took her glass and set it down with his on the table before scooting his chair closer to her and taking both of her hands in his.

"You're mad," he told her, his eyebrows raised. "Mad … and _brilliant."_ His eyes traveled from hers to roam across her face, over her hair, and briefly down her body, before ending up right back where they started. "And gorgeous ... and _ki_ _nd._ And ..." He smiled. "And I love you. And I want to be with _you,_ just as you are, _however_ you are. I've spent too much of my life chasing something I thought I'd lost."

Her breath shuddered as she inhaled, fighting tears as she listened to his heartfelt declarations. He opened his mouth to speak again, but she leaned forward just before he could get the words out, grasping his face in her hands and kissing him firmly - and _repeatedly_ \- on the mouth.

"If you're sure," she said, a tear escaping the corner of her eye.

He just nodded, and she stood up suddenly, pulling him up with her as they collided in a deep, passionate kiss into which they poured all their longing, fears, and desires.

Before long, Elsie's fingers were flying down the placket of his shirt, unbuttoning it with lightning speed before she pushed it off of his shoulders and tossed it carelessly on the floor. Meanwhile, his hands were roaming her back; they eventually made it to her bottom, squeezing it now and again as he nuzzled her neck and ran his tongue along the edge of her ear.

He managed to divest himself of his undershirt and sit on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks; Elsie, meanwhile, moved to turn the blankets and sheets down, and she lit the candles that she'd managed to put out before he showed up. His questioning look made her giggle, but she just winked and shook her head as he approached her stealthily.

When she flipped off the lamp, she was bathed in the glow from the candlelight.

"Beautiful," he said again, reaching for her.

"So are you," she replied, and she leaned forward and trailed kisses over his chest, collarbone, and up to his jaw.

"Hardly," he argued, but he was too distracted by the feel of her to put up much of a fight.

"You don't get a say in how attractive _I_ think you are," she told him, poking a finger against his chest.

A few more passionate kisses later, Charles realized they were sitting on the edge of the bed; he had no recollection of that having happened.

They were kissing deeply, relishing the taste and feel of one another, something that was vaguely familiar and yet, at the same time, excitingly new. Their maturity brought an appreciation of one another that they'd not really known in their youth, but the passion between them was burning brightly in a way they'd not experienced before.

"Elsie," Charles gasped, pushing her away a bit. "I need you to know that I wasn't just saying that, before. It's been … well, a _very_ long time since I've done this, and I'm afraid -"

But she silenced him with a finger across his lips.

"Don't," she murmured. "None of that matters. We're here now, and it's been a good while for both of us, believe me." She smirked. "I _am_ assuming you still have a rather decent grasp of the basics?"

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and he nodded silently.

"Well, then, Charlie," she said, seductively trilling the _r_ in his name as she stood before him, "let's see if you can manage to slip this nightie off of me."

"I think I can handle that," he said, and he stood, laid his hands at her hips, and began to slowly gather the material in his hands, pulling upward an inch at a time until he had reached the hem.

"You're not wearing anything underneath," he said, surprised.

"I was pressed for time," she whispered, her lip trapped beneath her teeth, and she backed up a bit and extended her arms over her head, closing her eyes tightly and taking a deep breath as he slipped the fabric over her body and placed it gently on the chair by the bed.

She sat before him and made quick work of his belt, trousers, and shorts, her breath catching as she revealed everything underneath.

 _He's certainly not Joe,_ she thought. _You remembered_ _ **that**_ _correctly._

She resisted the urge to touch him and instead scooted back onto the bed, giving a little shiver at the coldness of the sheets as Charles stepped out of the clothing pooled at his feet and crawled over her.

"This is new," he said, dipping his head and kissing a small thistle tattoo on her right breast. But as his tongue grazed over the inked area, he noted the _feel_ of the skin was different. He lifted his head quickly, a question in his eyes.

"Ten years ago," Elsie told him. "One lump, one scar, and one tattoo to remind myself that I can remain tough in the face of adversity. Nothing much came of it, except for the fear that came with the waiting, but every time I see it I'm reminded not to take anything for granted."

"Well, that's all right, then," he said, kissing her lovingly on the mouth before returning his attentions to her chest.

He lavished her breasts with love, her gasps and soft moans urging him on as he adored her with the brush of his fingertips mixed with the heat from his mouth. Before too long, though, she was encouraging him to come back up to her.

"Come and kiss me, love," she whispered.

"My pleasure."

Her hands roamed his back, her fingernails grazing his bottom before she slipped them around his hips and over his abdomen, reached down, and finally - and very gently - took him in her hands. She felt him twitch and heard him groan in her ear, but he pushed her hands away after only a few seconds.

"It's too much," he explained, and she nodded. He rested his weight on one arm and trailed his other hand down her side and between her legs, taking a deep breath as she spread them apart for him.

He swore softly as she moaned, but she didn't allow him to stay there for more than a moment.

"Charlie, don't make me wait," she said. "Believe me - I'm more than ready for you _now."_

Her pleading voice was almost his undoing, and when his lips crashed down on hers it was forceful, their teeth clashing as they shifted legs and hips and, suddenly -

She cried out loudly, throwing her head back against the pillow, and he echoed the sound with his own voice.

Elsie was torn between a thought somewhere in her mind that she wanted it to be like this _forever_ and the more pressing desire of needing _more_ of him; she wrapped her legs around him as he moved over and within her. The quick, deep movements were so passionate, so powerful, and it had been so long since either of them had felt anything like the way they did in that very moment.

Elsie wasn't sure she'd _ever_ felt the way she did in that moment.

"Elsie," Charles rasped after a few minutes, "I can't -"

"Then don't," she told him.

She squeezed him to her tightly; he was almost silent as he climaxed, and his soft panting was drowned out by her deep moan as her entire body clenched around him, her legs pulling him impossibly closer.

Charles leaned his head over her shoulder, his damp forehead pressing into a pillow before he slid, slightly shaking, down by her side.

It took her a few more moments to recover, her mouth dry and not really able to form words right away. It was the feel of his lips on her shoulder - soft, tender, loving - that finally enabled her to speak. She turned her head so that she could face him, and he saw the complete, utter love shining from within her deep, blue eyes.

"Well," she managed. "I can honestly say, Charles, that _that_ was incredible."

He chuckled and brushed his lips across her brow.

"Imagine what it'll be like when I'm not as out of practice." He waggled his eyebrows, and she laughed as she reached out blindly for his hand.

He squeezed her fingers. "Mind if I stay?"

Elsie smiled. "Actually, I was hoping you would. I'm not ready to let you go."

He shifted down the mattress a bit, tucking his arm underneath her pillow and allowing her head to come to rest on his shoulder, and he kissed her forehead sweetly.

"I'm rather hoping you never let me go again, to be honest."

It was a pain to her heart to hear it so plainly, even though she knew he'd not meant to hurt her.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie," she whispered.

"Don't be," he told her, drawing her close to his body and gently caressing her back. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know. But all those years, wasted because of some -"

"Stop, Elsie."

He tilted his head down to kiss her temple.

"You've lived your life, and I've lived mine. And that's made us who we are today. Who knows how we'd have ended up if we'd not parted back then? But now ..." he shifted to lean over her body and kissed her softly, deeply, and then pulled away slowly, brushing the hair back from her face. "Well … perhaps we can live them _together."_

Elsie could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"How is it possible that we have come so far, so quickly?" she whispered.

"I don't think of it that way at all," he said. "In my mind, we've been finding our way back to one another for a very, _very_ long time."

"I suppose."

"I can't explain it any other way," he said, yawning slightly. "But tonight, I want nothing more than to fall asleep with you in my arms, and to wake in the morning that very same way. The rest we can figure out as we go."

He felt her smile against his skin. "One day at a time. Agreed?"

Charles sighed happily as she shifted, tucking herself even more tightly against his body.

"Agreed."

 **oOoOoOo**

The sun crept lazily through the sheer curtain of the hotel room, and Elsie smiled broadly before drawing her lip under her teeth, nearly unable to contain her happiness. She felt Charles snuggled up behind her, his arms and one leg wrapped completely around her body in a gentle, protective embrace.

Leaning forward, she kissed his arm, smiling again as he shifted slightly. She thought he must have opened his mouth slightly, because she could feel the hair on the back of her head fluttering.

A glance at the clock told her it was just before seven. Knowing they had at least another hour before her alarm went off, she reached for the sheet, pulled it up over her torso, and drifted back to sleep.

She was completely, utterly, blissfully happy.

 _At last._


	17. Complications

**Officially entering what the lovely Danielle Shepherd would call "Act II" of a two-act fanfic. :)**

 **Thanks for all the love, even from those who didn't like how fast I've moved things along. I really do appreciate each and every review. They give me quite a bit to think about, and I am touched that people are sticking by me. I feel like I've made a couple of new friends through the course of this story, too, and that makes me smile. I do hope I've replied to everyone's comments.**

 **Shout-outs to chelsie fan for her amazing help, and to my special friend who read Act 1 but has no clue what's to come of Act II.**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **29 January**_

The first thing Charles noticed upon waking Sunday morning was the heavy scent of good coffee; the second, which seemed somewhere in his hazy mind to go hand-in-hand with the first, was the empty space beside him in the bed.

If he allowed himself to fantasize for just a moment, he could pretend they were tucked away in their own home instead of in an hotel in Canada.

"Els?"

"I'm in the loo," came her faraway voice.

"All right."

He opened his eyes fully, remembering that they were - this time - in _his_ hotel room. He smiled as he recalled the lovely night they'd spent together … doing nothing more than sharing a few gentle kisses and caresses, and sleeping. It was the first time they'd been in his, having landed rather passionately and breathlessly on _her_ bed each of the three nights prior.

Yesterday had been a _very_ long day, though. By the time Charles and Elsie had gotten upstairs and into their rooms it hadn't even required discussion; Elsie had simply knocked on his half of their shared doorway,* already clad in comfortable pyjamas, her hair in a loose braid.

"I'm dead on my feet, but I can't bear the thought of sleeping alone," she'd admitted, and he'd simply moved aside to let her in.

"I'm glad to know you'd miss me," he'd said, dropping a kiss to her cheek. "And I wholeheartedly agree. Besides … while the last three nights have been _incredible,_ I'd hate to think you're holding me to unrealistic expectations," he'd added with a smile.

They'd climbed into bed and snuggled close to one another, with Elsie's head resting on Charles's arm. She'd relaxed immediately, and the caresses he'd given to her back had lulled her to sleep quickly.

"Love you," she'd mumbled just before drifting off.

With a sigh, Charles pulled himself out of the memory. They'd fallen into what he already knew would be a serious, committed relationship a mere four days ago, and yet it all felt so _normal._ It was unlike him, and he knew it, but they had decided to just go with it and see where they ended up.

He swung his feet out from under the covers, feeling the plush hotel carpet under his bare feet just as Else came back into the room. It occurred to him for the first time how strange it must feel for _her,_ too … she, who'd had such a shock upon seeing him again after all those years, thinking he'd abandoned her after learning some horrible secret about her family.

 _One which you_ _ **still**_ _don't know,_ he reminded himself. But it didn't even matter; nothing would change how he felt about being with her; he'd meant what he'd said so cavalierly the other night: he was ready to spend his life with her, no questions asked.

"You're looking ravishing," she teased, approaching him and running her fingers through his mussed hair.

"Oh, you're funny."

"I mean it, Charlie," she said lowly, leaning in for a kiss.

"You should have let me brush my teeth first," he said when she broke away.

"I didn't feel like waiting," she told him, and he watched her hips swaying as she headed to pour him a cup of coffee.

"I didn't even hear you _order_ that coffee," he marveled. "I must've been really tired."

She laughed. "Little tag on the door … remember that? One simply preselects breakfast and hangs it out. New invention," she quipped.

"Be nice," Charles admonished as he held his hands out for the cup. "Ahh," he said, taking a sip. "That _is_ good. What else did you order?"

Elsie chuckled as she saw his eyes scanning the tray.

"Fruit and toast. I've a breakfast meeting with Robert at ten," she reminded him. "I'll be eating again soon."

"Well, _I_ don't have a meeting," he grumbled quietly. "No reason _I_ should have to suffer."

Elsie shook her head, but she was smiling fondly at him.

"We _already_ sound like an old married couple." Her voice was quiet, wistful almost, and Charles set his cup on the nightstand and held his arms out, beckoning for her to come and sit on his lap.

She complied willingly, although she was mindful of the hour and the sounds of their film crew and cast milling about in the corridor already; Charles hugged her body to himself, resting his head on her shoulder, and she sighed softly.

"Too much?" he asked quietly. "Me wanting to hold you all the time?"

"No," she cooed, anxious to allay his fears. "But I _am_ going to miss this. We've been on some kind of secret vacation in the midst of the work one. I'm not going to want to go back home to my flat and have only Boots for company."

"Boots?"

"My cat, Charlie," she reminded him, laughing.

"Ah, yes. The _competition."_

"Only when there's food about."

The phone on the desk rang, a shrill sound that made Elsie jump.

"Who on earth …?"

Elsie stood quickly as Charles went to answer it, snatching it up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

" _Charles?"_

Charles felt his heart plummet at the tone of the voice at the other end.

"Robert? Whatever is the matter? You sound horrible."

" _Charles, have you seen Elsie?"_

"Elsie?"

Charles's eyes flew to Elsie, and she knew Robert must have called her room looking for _her._ She sighed, closed her eyes, and nodded, holding her hand out for the phone.

" _\- so … well … I wondered if she might be with you?"_

Charles cleared his throat.

"She is," he said, acquiescing. "Hold on."

He passed the phone over, and Elsie placed it on her ear, standing by the desk.

"Robert? What's the ma- … What? Um, yeah. Hang on."

 _iPad?_ she mouthed, pointing to the connecting doors.

"Where?" he asked quietly.

Elsie tucked the mouthpiece under her chin. "In my bag; front pouch."

Charles disappeared through the doors and returned promptly, iPad in hand; she reached out for it and sat at the desk.

"All right; I've got it."

Charles saw her roll her eyes.

"Fine," she said, sitting at the desk. "Yes, I'm sitting down. What's this all about?"

Charles waited as Elsie listened to whatever Robert was saying, and he saw the color drain from her face; he was by her side in an instant, a hand on her shoulder as she rapidly opened her email and clicked on a message … and then a link ...

"Oh, shit," she whispered. "Yes. Yes, I see it. Give me a sec."

Charles peered over her shoulder and his heart nearly stopped; there, shining brightly from the device's screen, was a photograph of him kissing Elsie's forehead in the park in London … and a devastating headline just below it:

 _ **Beginning of the End for Crawley?**_

He watched as Elsie zoomed through the article; when she shoved the iPad aside with a huff, all the while trying to calm Robert down and answer what seemed to be a steady barrage of questions, Charles picked it up and skimmed it himself. He was confused at first, because the photograph didn't seem to match the article; all he saw in the text were comments about the financial stability of the project, a mention that Violet was heavily involved, and the poor financials for Robert's last three projects.

When he read the last lines, however, his hand clenched Elsie's shoulder tightly, and he pointed to the words:

 _And the icing on the cake? Nothing spells disaster on the set like a secret affair. Crawley has evidently lost control of more than just his finances._

Elsie pushed the chair back and Charles moved quickly, allowing her space to get up. She slammed the phone down in frustration and turned to face him, and he noted for the first time that there were tears in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie," she whispered.

"For what? If anything, _I'm_ to blame for _that,"_ he said, pointing to the iPad, which had since blacked out. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"It's going to be our names out there," she whispered. _"Your_ name. The timing … Oh, damn it …"

Charles reached his hand up and brushed away the tear that had escaped over her lower lashes.

"Shh," he soothed, leaning forward and kissing her gently. "We just need to come up with a plan. There's no way you could convince me that _Robert_ has one."

"No," she half-laughed. "Not yet. But he wants to meet us in half an hour; I suggested my room, so as not to be overheard in the restaurant. And mine's cleaner," she added with a smile, making Charles laugh.

"Hey, I had to set up my work somewhere," he said, glancing over at his table. "And that's not much time," he acknowledged belatedly.

"I know, but we've got to get those last shots this afternoon, too. I'm going to nip into the shower, and maybe you should, too. And if you could order a proper breakfast ..."

Charles squeezed her close.

"I'd be happy to."

 **oOoOoOo**

Robert stood outside the room to Elsie's door. He lifted his hand to knock but lowered it again, thinking.

 _London,_ he kept repeating to himself. _London? How have they kept this a secret? And who the_ _ **hell**_ _is leaking info about our whereabouts - and our **lives?!**_

His anger piqued again, he knocked loudly; he figured Elsie must've been standing right next to the door, because she turned the handle before he'd even lowered his hand again.

"Morning, Elsie," he said. "I'm sorry to dump this in your lap so suddenly."

"I know," she said, laying a hand on his arm as he entered the room. "Don't worry about it." She pushed the door closed and bolted it. "Have you eaten?"

Robert shook his head. "No; I couldn't."

"Well, Charlie's ordered a mountain of food," she said as she pulled the desk chair over to the small table, making three places to sit. "It should be here any minute."

"'Charlie?'"

Elsie turned to face her old-friend-turned-boss, but he only had kindness on his face.

"I'm happy for you, you know," he told her. "For both of you."

"We _did_ wait," she said. "If it matters, anyhow, which _I_ think it does. That garbage in the paper was just Charles comforting me as I was struggling through a few things. We were in the middle of a deserted park. I still can't even believe neither of us noticed we were being watched."

"I know his divorce went through on Tuesday," Robert said carefully. "So … you two have been … well, _officially_ an item since …"

"Wednesday."

Robert took a deep breath and exhaled slowly just as Charles made his way through with a breakfast cart.

"Charles!" Elsie laughed. "When I said order a decent breakfast, I didn't mean _all_ the breakfast foods they had!"

"I didn't," he insisted. "But I asked for the bacon on separate plates since Robert isn't supposed to eat too much of it."

"Neither are you!" Robert laughed.

"I am aware of that. But Elsie, here, is under no such restrictions."

"I could just have pulled it off of your plate, silly," she said, approaching the cart and rubbing her hand absentmindedly on Charles's back. "Let's get settled, and then we can figure out what to do."

Robert watched them interacting, looking on as Charles made Elsie's tea and set it on the table for her while she put together a plate for him, even going as far as to pick around the pineapple in the fruit bowl because Charles loathed the stuff.

He wondered briefly if Alice would ever have bothered, and decided that, no, she wouldn't have.

"Robert?"

Charles was looking at him curiously, and Robert had the decency to look embarrassed about his overt staring at the two of them.

"It's just so strange," Robert mused. "It's like I've been brought back in time, watching you two, and yet … not. But it's like you've been together for ages."

"Yeah," Elsie said softly. "We know the feeling."

They sat down and tucked into the food, making small talk until they were about halfway through their meal.

"Okay, Robert, let's cut to the chase," Elsie said. "How bad is this article for you? It's only in Carlisle's tabloid, although his circulation is pretty good."

"It is," Robert agreed, "although there is nothing of _substance_ here. It's almost like the article itself has no actual purpose other than to criticize _me."_

"Which is why the photo makes no sense," Charles commented.

"Exactly, and I can't figure out- Oh, wait a minute …" Robert's voice trailed off, and Elsie and Charles waited patiently for him to continue.

Charles cleared his throat after a minute, and Robert's head snapped up.

"Robert?" Elsie prodded gently. "What is it?"

"There are others," Robert whispered. "Photos, I mean. But …" He couldn't bear to finish the sentence. It seemed ridiculous that it wouldn't all somehow be connected, but he couldn't figure out _how._ All he knew was that, based upon their phone conversation last night, Edith still hadn't received anything resembling a demand for money, or any further information whatsoever.

"Other _photos?"_ Elsie asked, incredulous. "Of _us?"_

But Robert shook his head. "No, not of you."

"Then who?" she persisted. "Are they connected?"

"I'm not sure," Robert said evasively. He reached for his phone, which had just buzzed in his pocket. "Calendar reminder," he said after a couple of seconds. "We've got half an hour."

"Robert," Charles said, trying to be patient, "are the other photos significant? Wait … Are they tied to Carlisle?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he said again. "But I'm fairly certain they're not tied to the woman who wrote the trash that showed up this morning."

"I didn't even notice the byline," Elsie said.

"Not one I recognized," Robert said. "And it was John who tipped _me_ off, and he doesn't know her, either. Lavinia something …"

"Swire," Elsie said, now looking at the iPad. She looked up at Charles, but he just shrugged.

"No idea," he said. "Maybe someone else will know."

"Well," Elsie said, "it doesn't matter _who_ she is. We need to get to the bottom of this. Because someone either has a serious problem with a docudrama set in Britain …"

"Or," Robert finished for her, "someone has a serious problem with my family."

"But _why?"_ Elsie asked.

Robert looked up, clearly pained, and shrugged. "We fly home in twelve hours; we'll figure it out then. Just … trust me. I need to talk to Edith - and Mary."

"Why?" Elsie had a sinking feeling in her stomach; she was pretty sure she knew what "photos" and "Mary" had to do with it all, but she couldn't figure out the Edith part.

 _Unless … Oh, surely not._

"Robert? Don't tell me that _Edith_ is planning to write something scathing about Mary. Because -"

"No," Robert cut her off. "But … it's complicated. Just trust me," he repeated. "Please?"

Elsie and Charles glanced at each other, and Charles reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"All right," he said to Robert. "We will."

* * *

 ***Reminder for any readers who've never seen one that it's TWO doors, both of which lock from inside each room.**

 **Okay ... so! Lavinia Swire FTW! I'm not sure if any of my silent guessers figured her out - am betting perhaps one of them did but not sure. Everything else will be revealed in the next five or so chapters so hang around! :) Thanks again, all. Would love to know your thoughts! xx**


	18. Back in LA

**A/N: Heading home. Not sure where along the way I dropped days of the week to set the scene, but here they are again.**

 **No similarities are intended between Mary's story here and Michelle Dockery's devastating, real-life experience of losing her fiancé. Almost deleted that bit, but it is important for Mary's character.**

 **Thanks so much for all the love and support. And huge hugs for chelsie fan, as always. xxx**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Sunday, 29 January - Wednesday, 1 February**_

Elsie and Charles managed to get seats together on the flight home, although they spent most of that time asleep. Elsie and Robert had rallied everyone for what was intended to be a brief meeting updating them on the article (lest they find out from other sources), but it ended up running a bit longer than planned. After that, everyone had been forced to rush in order to pack, check out, and be ready for the airport shuttle to pick them up.

"You're okay?" Elsie asked with a smile, and Charles nodded and then leaned closer to murmur something in her left ear.

"I'm remarkably calmer with you beside me," he told her, and her body flooded with warmth and love. "You seem to steady me like no one else can. Funny, that was always the case when we were younger, too."

Elsie chuckled. "Yes, but we're _older_ now," she teased quietly.

"Well, that's true. But I think age comes with a certain appreciation of the _finer_ details of life. I know that I appreciate _you_ more now," he whispered, his lips barely grazing the edge of her ear.

Charles pulled away quickly, noting it was unlikely they'd be seen or overheard due to their relative privacy in the small first-class area of the plane - two seats by the window with the center area of seats beside them devoid of passengers - but cognizant of the need to maintain propriety, particularly after the Sunday paper bombshell.

And so it was good that they slept. Elsie woke at one point to find Charles's head leaning gently on hers; he was fast asleep, and she wasn't terribly uncomfortable so she let him stay there. She managed to pull her book up from where she'd tucked it by the side of her leg and read four more chapters in between moments spent staring out at the clouds; at one point, he stirred, tipped his head to the left, and continued to sleep.

Elsie moved then, and she felt her neck twinge in protest; she reached up to massage it and realized she'd be best to just stand up. Upon doing so, she turned around to see where their traveling companions were seated. She knew that Robert and Cora were behind herself and Charles, and both of them were currently napping. The center seating section, across the aisle from Robert, showed Joseph and Thomas - both awake and watching something on the on-board television. She couldn't spy the rest of their crew, and she assumed they were seated farther back.

She stretched again and then settled herself back into her own seat, allowing her thoughts to wander back to that morning. It had been rather embarrassing for Robert to have found her in Charles's room, although he hadn't seemed particularly put out about it. In hindsight, she realized how upset Robert had been about the article and about the fact that there were clearly more unscrupulous photos circulating around Hollywood that could be destined for another exposé on his family. She'd asked him specifically about the photos on their way into the meeting, but all he would say was that they had nothing to do with her or Charles.

It made her wonder if the rumors about Mary were true, about how she'd been secretly dating Tony Gillingham, only to find him engaged to Mabel Fox a week or two later. Elsie had dismissed the rumors immediately when Mary had gotten the part in the film, given that Mabel had been in charge of casting; now that she thought more about it, however, it would explain a lot … how Mary had auditioned spectacularly well but then seemed to have fallen apart when it came to the actual filming itself. Elsie had always thought of Mary having a sort of ice in her veins, clearly capable of performing admirably well under pressure, but then caving thereafter for a while.

 _There was, of course, that fiancé who died in the car crash,_ she reminded herself. _Matthew. Isobel's son, oddly._ She remembered how she'd met Isobel without realizing right away that Isobel's late husband had been a distant cousin of Robert's father … not that it mattered now, of course.

Yes, Mary had been the pillar of strength in the media then, but she'd suffered a breakdown afterwards that had caused her to drop out of the spotlight for half a year at least, and Elsie knew from conversations at the time with Cora that it had taken a good amount of medication and therapy to bring Mary back around again.

 _Yes,_ she mused. _So perhaps it_ _ **is**_ _something to do with Mary._

The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. She just hoped Robert hadn't done anything stupid in order to protect his eldest daughter from being scrutinized in the media once again.

 **oOoOoOo**

The plane landed and everyone managed to find luggage and make it back to their respective homes. Elsie collapsed onto her sofa with relief, and after about ten minutes Boots finally ventured out of wherever he'd been hiding to jump up onto her lap and give a rather angry _meow,_ clearly put out for having been left behind for so long, with only the neighbor looking in.

"I know, love," she cooed, scratching his head and bending to kiss it. "I'm sorry. It's been a rather eventful time, I'll have you know. Lots to catch you up on."

She spent the next few minutes cuddling Boots and telling him all about Charles, when suddenly her cell phone buzzed on the sofa arm. Reaching for it, she smiled at the cat.

"Guess who?"

She slid open the message window.

 _Home safely. You?_

Elsie smiled and typed a quick reply:

 _Same. Boots is happy. Miss you._

It took forever to get a reply … long enough, anyhow, for Elsie to regret having typed the last two words. But her fears were allayed when the phone buzzed again.

 _Me too. x I'll call you later?_

Her reply was instantaneous:

 _Absolutely. x_

 **oOoOoOo**

Charles didn't end up calling Elsie, however. In fact, she didn't hear from him at all the next day or the day after that, either. They didn't have much on the filming agenda until Thursday, and although Elsie stopped into her office twice, Charles was nowhere to be seen. Elsie had no idea what had happened, and she tried phoning _him_ twice but it just went to his voicemail. She tried not to get upset about it, and she decided after a while to head on over to Beryl's place for an early dinner that afternoon instead of scrounging around in the pantry or heading to the market.

"So," Beryl said, sitting opposite Elsie at a quiet table in the corner. "It's nearly closing time, and yet here you are, sauntering in after a whirlwind tour of filming locations. What gives?"

"Sorry?" Elsie asked around a mouthful of delicious salad. "What do you mean?"

"How did it all go?" Beryl asked pointedly. "The trip. _Charles."_ She glanced around to verify that they were still relatively alone. "I saw the paper, Elsie. I can't believe this is the first time I've seen _you_ since you've been back."

Elsie swallowed slowly and sipped at her wine. "I assumed you had seen that. And, to be fair, you've not called."

"I didn't want to bother you," Beryl said magnanimously. "Figured you needed a day or two to rest after all that travel. Time changes and such …"

"Just so," Elsie replied. "And that picture in the newspaper was _nothing;_ Charles was just comforting me in the park one day, after … well, it's complicated."

Beryl raised her eyebrows. "Complicated _how,_ Elsie?" she asked slowly, now clearly intrigued. She'd assumed it was an innocent scene between the two old … well, _friends,_ she assumed they'd become. But Elsie's face did not match the reaction Beryl had expected.

Elsie closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them again, Beryl was looking at her _very_ intently.

"You can't tell anyone this," Elsie said. "I mean it, Beryl. _No one."_

Beryl raised her hand. "Cross my heart," she said, motioning over her chest. "Now spill it."

Elsie cradled her wine glass as she sat back in the chair.

"Nothing _was_ going on when that photograph was taken," she said quietly. "But there is now."

"Oh, Elsie," Beryl sighed sadly. "I'm not saying this to judge you, but you must be careful. I mean, he's married, and -"

"Actually," Elsie whispered, interrupting her, "he's _not._ Not as of _very_ recently. I'm not sure _how_ you didn't hear _that."_

Beryl's jaw dropped slightly, her mouth open as she stared at her friend. "Ohh," she breathed.

"Oh," Elsie nodded.

"I've been out of my mind busy," Beryl said absentmindedly. "So, then you …"

"Precisely. But it doesn't look good if you put that together with the newspaper thing. And to make matters worse, someone is out to get Robert, or at least his company. I'm _sure_ of that. That picture of us in the paper was a ruse, like a way to needle him without actually saying anything of substance."

"Why would Carlisle have it out for Robert?" Beryl asked, confused. "That makes no sense; they've no connections. I could see it if it were the daughter, that one at the Times -"

"Edith. Yes," Elsie nodded.

"Right. Her. But why the company itself?"

"I don't know." Elsie shrugged, helpless, and finished her wine before digging into the chicken dinner that Daisy dropped off. "Thank you, Daisy," she said to the girl.

"More wine?"

Elsie smiled. "Definitely; in fact," she added, glancing at her watch, "I must be your last customer."

Daisy nodded. "You are, Ms. Hughes."

"Then bring a bottle, and an extra glass," she said, nodding toward Beryl.

"I'm not sure -" her friend protested, but Elsie silenced her.

"It's a long story."

Beryl smiled, then nodded a confirmation at Daisy, who left swiftly to retrieve the wine and the requested glass.

"All right, then," Beryl said once Daisy was out of earshot. "Tell me _everything."_

Elsie tried to keep a serious look plastered on her face, but as she traveled back through her memories about the last several days, she found she couldn't. She broke out into a smile, and then a faint blush as a particularly intimate moment snuck into her mind.

"Oh, there you are," Beryl whispered gleefully. "You've touched upon something good there; I can see it!"

"You're not getting _that_ one," Elsie laughed. "But, okay. Let's start with the park …"

The next forty-five minutes provided a good deal of tale-telling from Elsie, and a good deal _more_ questions from Beryl - most of which were inappropriate enough that Elsie refused to answer them at all.

"But you're happy?" Beryl asked at last, and she was so pleased when Elsie nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm so _very_ happy, Beryl. I can hardly believe it."

"But what was it that caused you to part so many years ago? If you were in love with each other then, too, then I don't understand."

Elsie sobered instantly. "That's a bit more complicated, but suffice to say, we each had the wrong end of the stick, and it was all exacerbated by the fact that my Mam hated Charlie. I went home for a bit, you see, when my Da died. And she interfered in our correspondence enough that we each thought the other had stopped writing altogether."

"But there are _phones,_ Elsie," Beryl chided. "Surely you could've rung him?"

"We didn't have one on the farm back then," Elsie admitted. "If someone wanted us, they rang the neighbor. I did manage to call him a few times in the beginning, but only for short periods, and the neighbors were always listening. The last two times I tried, though, he wasn't around. And then he moved to a new flat and I didn't have the number …" She sighed again. "It just seemed like it wasn't meant to be, and so we each kind of gave up."

"And when did he meet Alice?" Beryl asked.

Elsie gave her a wistful half-smile. "About that time," she confirmed. _"That_ letter, I got."

Beryl hummed, finished her wine, and reached out to squeeze her best friend's hand.

"Well, it seems to me that it's a good job Robert asked him on this project," she said. "Because I've not seen you this happy since I met you. Just tread carefully, love."

Elsie smiled gratefully and nodded.

"I shall."

Beryl started stacking the plates, having sent Daisy on her way a few minutes back. Just as she reached for Elsie's glass, Elsie's phone buzzed on the table and she snatched it up, glancing at the screen in puzzlement.

"Cora?"

Beryl watched Elsie's face as her expression turned from confused to horrified in a matter of seconds.

"What?" Elsie whispered, looking up at Beryl, who clearly had no idea what was going on. "Wait … when did it hap- Never mind, that doesn't matter," she rattled off. "Where are you now?"

Elsie listened, digging a pen from her bag and jotting something down on a napkin.

"Hold on … yes … One forty-seven," she said, clearly repeating something. "And that's just in emerg- All right, I'll be right -"

Beryl didn't move as Elsie stopped talking, clearly trying to internalize something Cora was telling her.

"I don't care," Elsie said. "I'm sure you're right, but I'll be there anyhow." She glanced at her watch. "Half hour," she said, and she hung up and looked up at Beryl.

"What the hell?" Beryl whispered. "You look terrified. Please tell me nothing's happened to Robert."

"No," Elsie said, stuffing her phone, pen, and the napkin into her bag as she stood and grabbed her shawl off the back of her chair. "It's Charles."

"Charles? Is he all right?"

Elsie took a minute before answering tearfully, "I don't know." She swallowed a sob. "Cora wasn't really sure. I've got to get down there. Alice is there, and I think Robert."

But Beryl was already shedding her apron, which she tossed onto the table before snatching up Elsie's keys.

"You're in no condition to drive anywhere," she said. "Just let me tell someone where we're headed. They're at Sinai, I presume?"

"No - County. You're a godsend," Elsie breathed, and she wiped at her eyes as Beryl rushed into the kitchen to let them know she was leaving.

 _My God, Charlie,_ Elsie thought as she tried to pull herself together. _You'd better be all right when I get there._

She shouldered her purse, and then added, _If anyone will even be able to tell me what's going on._

Beryl returned quickly, and they headed to Elsie's car together.

"Alice is there?" Beryl asked carefully. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

But Elsie was already nodding. "Yes. It's odd, actually … but it was _Alice_ who told Cora to call _me."_

"Well," Beryl replied, buckling herself in. "This ought to be interesting, indeed."

* * *

 **A/N: Please leave a review if you'd be so kind. Will update again soon - maybe tomorrow, as I know I've left you hanging. x**


	19. In Hospital

**A/N: I just couldn't make you all wait. Of course I couldn't kill off Charles Carson. I don't think I'll ever kill either him or Elsie again after the last time I did it ...**

 **Many thanks to you all, friends, for actually reading and supporting this fic. I hope you're not disappointed by how it all plays out. My thanks to chelsie fan for the beta work.**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Wednesday, 1 February**_

Elsie had the passenger door halfway opened before Beryl even had the car in park. She was terrified that something awful had happened in the few minutes it took to arrive at the hospital, and she was almost to the entrance before Beryl caught up to her.

"Elsie! Girl, you've got to slow down," Beryl said, breathing heavily as she grasped her friend's hand. "Stop, and take a deep breath. Maybe two. Or at least let _me_ breathe," she chuckled.

Elsie turned to face Beryl, and her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"Oh, love," Beryl whispered, squeezing Elsie's fingers tightly, "don't be borrowing trouble now, all right? Let's see what they have to say. It could be nothing!"

"And maybe it's _not,"_ Elsie whispered. "Oh, my God, Beryl. I've just gotten him back … What if it _was_ a heart attack? What if they just didn't want to tell me? What if they don't let me in? What if he doesn't want to _see_ me?"

"Elsie!" Beryl nearly shouted, silencing her friend with the loudness of her voice, which she promptly lowered again to a calming level. "What if … What if a bomb goes off? What if we're hit by a falling star? You're not making any sense, and I know it's because you're scared. They called for you, remember? Now, deep breaths," Beryl said firmly, and she inhaled very slowly, watching to be sure that Elsie followed suit - several times.

"Okay," Elsie said, nodding after the third long exhalation. "That's better. Thanks."

They headed through the automatic doors, and Elsie was surprised to see Cora waiting for her.

"He's all right," was the first thing Cora said, and Elsie almost collapsed with relief. "He's still down here in Emergency for now, but they'll be admitting him for an overnight stay." She paused, then added, "Alice is in with him now."

Elsie just nodded.

"They won't let the rest of us in as we're not family," Cora continued. "And Alice was still listed on all his paperwork. But Sybil was on shift when they brought him in, and Isobel was the physician on duty. She'll be down to talk with you in a bit."

"Can she do that?" Beryl asked, and Cora smiled.

"Well," she said quietly, "technically she's not _supposed_ to, but Charles insisted."

"I'm sure that went over well," Elsie remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, Alice was supportive of the idea," Cora said. "Now, let's have a seat in here." She waved an arm to the waiting area. "I've sent Mary down for some tea; she should be back any minute."

"I didn't realize Mary was here," Elsie said. "Anyone else?"

"Just us. I sent Robert home - he was still exhausted from the traveling."

Elsie swallowed the rest of her fear and met Cora's steady gaze.

"Tea," she repeated belatedly, trying to take it all in, and Cora nodded. "Thank you."

They made their way farther into the waiting area, needing to clear away from the doors as another ambulance pulled up, but Elsie kept walking until she was standing by the far window, looking out at the night lights of the city. No sooner had she sat in the chair closest to the window than Mary arrived with a takeaway tray that contained four cups.

"I got you a coffee, Elsie," she said, her voice soft and unusually kind. "I figured you'd enjoy that more than tea, and they'd just brewed a pot."

"Oh, bless you," Elsie said gratefully, reaching for it, and she smiled at Mary, noticing the woman's unusually pale countenance. "How are you holding up?"

Mary pursed her lips, and Elsie was surprised to see the young woman tear up.

"Not well," she whispered, sitting opposite Elsie. Both women were fairly cognizant of Beryl and Cora chatting on the other side of the room, but neither took her eyes off the other. "I was with him just before it all happened; I- I think it's my fault," she added, and Elsie could see the guilt wash over her completely as two tears escaped Mary's eyes.

Without thinking about it, Elsie reached over and took Mary's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I don't know _what_ happened," she said carefully, "but I highly doubt it was your fault. You and I may not get on very well, but you love Charles like a second father, and everyone knows it."

"I do," Mary said, her voice shuddering, "but you don't understand -"

Before she could explain herself, Isobel Crawley's heels sounded in the waiting room; she crossed the open space instantly and took the other remaining empty seat by Elsie.

"Elsie," she said quietly, "I'm so glad you're here."

Isobel was completely professional in her demeanor, and yet there was a soothing kindness about her that Elsie both appreciated and needed. They'd met only briefly a couple of times but had taken an instant liking to one another; now, however, Elsie got to see the 'doctor' side of Isobel, and she could understand why Sybil looked to the woman as a mentor.

"How is he?" Elsie asked.

"Completely fine," Isobel said reassuringly.

"But you're keeping him?"

"Only for observation, because I've switched his heart medication around a bit," she said. "I'm not sure how much you know about that."

"I know he had a heart attack about ten years ago, and that he's on medication for it," Elsie recalled. "I know he is supposed to watch his diet and exercise regularly, and that he does neither," she added with a smirk.

"I'd say you've got the measure of it," the doctor replied with a small chuckle.

"But it wasn't a heart attack?" Elsie asked, trying to sort through everything in her mind.

"No. It was a panic attack, brought on by stress."

Mary got up suddenly, and Elsie saw her clap her hand over her mouth to hold in a sob as she fled the waiting area upon hearing Isobel's words.

"Mary seems to think it was her fault," Elsie said lowly, trying not to allow Cora or Beryl to overhear.

"It may have been," Isobel acknowledged matter-of-factly. "Evidently, Mary had gone to see him with what Charles called 'some shocking information.' She left after they'd spoken, but Charles was quite agitated. Alice arrived shortly thereafter, and she was the one who called 911."

"So they were at Alice's place?"

"Yes. Charles was there all day, packing up the last of his things, from what I understand. Mary couldn't find him at the new flat, so she showed up there."

Elsie just nodded, thankful for the situation having played out as it had; if Charles had been alone at his new place … well, she didn't really want to think about that.

"What did Mary tell him?" Elsie asked, but she already knew Isobel wouldn't answer that.

"I actually have no idea," came the reply. "I didn't ask; I'll leave that to you."

Isobel stood, and Elsie followed suit.

"I'll let you know when he's been moved," Isobel told her, checking her watch as she was speaking. "It shouldn't be long now; a room was freed up a couple of hours ago."

"Thank you," Elsie breathed. "I'll be here."

"I'm not going anywhere, either," Cora spoke up, and Isobel smiled kindly at her.

"Visitors one at a time, I think, and at Charles's request, and for no more than ten minutes each," she said diplomatically. "Other than that, I've nothing else for the moment."

She turned and headed back to the ER, leaving Elsie, Cora, and Beryl to sit and wait.

"What did she have to say?" Beryl asked.

Elsie pondered for a moment, deciding not to divulge much information, given that Isobel had been so careful about not sharing everything with all those present.

"It wasn't a heart attack, and he should be all set to go home tomorrow. They're just making sure he's not going to react badly to anything they've given him tonight," she explained, and that seemed to satisfy everyone well enough.

Cora's phone beeped, and she pulled it out and checked the message.

"Mary's gone home," she told Elsie, who nodded.

"I hope she's all right …"

"She'll be fine," Cora said confidently, typing in a response. "I'm just telling her now that he'll be leaving tomorrow, and that she should leave him alone until then."

"Probably wise," Beryl said. "The poor man will likely need a good night's sleep."

"True," Elsie added. But secretly, she felt no guilt whatsoever at the fact that _she_ wouldn't be letting Charles fall asleep until she clapped eyes on him, established that he was, in fact, 'fine,' and kissed him goodnight.

 **oOoOoOo**

There was a faint beeping coming from somewhere in Charles's room, but his awareness of the sound disappeared completely the moment he saw Elsie stride purposefully through the door. He held his hand up and she was by his side in an instant, clasping it tightly and fighting back fresh tears.

"About time you made it," he joked, his voice thick with medication-induced fatigue.

"Hi there," she said, smiling. "Yeah, I wasn't going to bother, but as I was passing by, I thought I'd stop in."

"Must be my youthful charm," he retorted, and she laughed.

"I must say, you always _did_ know how to get a girl's attention, Charlie," Elsie replied.

A sudden movement from the back corner of the room drew Elsie's eyes away from Charles, and she blushed furiously as Alice stood up from a chair and crossed over to the bed.

"Elsie Hughes; we finally meet," Alice said, hand outstretched.

Elsie tried to move closer to shake it, but Charles squeezed her left hand even more tightly, and she was forced to lean over a bit. It was a struggle not to laugh at the absurdity of shaking Alice's right hand with her own while Charles kept a tight hold on her.

"Really, Charles," Alice admonished with a slight eye roll. "The woman's clearly not going anywhere. You can let go of her for one moment, surely."

Elsie's eyes darted back and forth between Charles and his ex-wife, but she was pleased to see that Alice appeared to only have been teasing. Realizing she'd had very horrible expectations regarding how Alice might treat her, Elsie decided to just give the woman the benefit of the doubt.

"Thank you for having someone call me," she said to Alice. "You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, I think I _did,"_ Alice replied, looking over at Charles, who smiled gratefully and nodded - a bit sadly, Elsie considered, but the thought was gone as soon as she'd acknowledged it, and she became distracted by Alice's picking up of her handbag.

"I'm going to leave you two to catch up," she said, reaching out and squeezing Charles's leg briefly. "Get some rest, and let me know if you need anything."

"I shall," he said, nodding his thanks. "Talk to you tomorrow."

Alice looked over at Elsie, considering her for a moment: disheveled appearance, clearly emotionally fraught, and a bit older than Alice herself. She nodded as if convincing herself of something. "I'm glad we've met," she said simply. "I'm sure we'll see one another again."

"Yes, I'm sure," Elsie replied weakly.

Alice exited the room, and Charles pulled on Elsie's arm.

"Sit," he said, patting the bed by his hip, and she complied. "Now that she's gone, how about a kiss?"

"Just a small one," Elsie told him, leaning over and kissing him chastely on the lips. She pulled back but then leaned in again for two _more_ kisses before finally backing away once again.

"Or three," he chuckled.

"For now," she smiled. "I figured you owed me a couple after not calling me back."

He looked guilty, and opened his mouth to explain, to tell her all about packing and getting his things sorted, about wanting to be sure things were fully taken care of and the new place set up before he had her over … but she had something more pressing on her mind.

"Charles, about this panic attack … I don't mean to get you worked up again, but I really need to understand. Has this happened before?"

He nodded. "Twice, but never this severe. Alice saw me through the heart attack, and she knew this was different."

"Mary was here," Elsie said, and Charles blanched a bit. She squeezed his hand, venturing forward. "She thinks _she_ was the cause of it all."

She expected him to vehemently deny that, and so she was stunned when he nodded.

"Yes," he admitted. "Probably. Although it's not her fault; it was just how I reacted."

"You're not going to tell me about that, are you?" she asked.

"Not tonight," he confirmed. "But tomorrow, perhaps. You do need to know, for a variety of reasons."

"Fair enough."

She reached over and combed his hair a bit with her fingers. "You're a right mess," she laughed.

"Reconsidering, are you?' He quirked a prodigious eyebrow at her, and she shook her head and chuckled.

"You're not _that_ lucky, Charlie," she said quietly.

He pulled her down for another kiss, growing drowsier by the minute.

"Good. Because I can't imagine my life without you again," he said huskily, and she kissed him once more, tugging on his upper lip a bit before pulling herself away.

"One day at a time, Charles," she said, and he nodded.

"I know. Just promise me you'll be here tomorrow when they send me home?"

"I promise. I was actually thinking about that …" she said, her lip disappearing underneath her teeth.

"Oh?"

"Want some company when you get there?" she whispered. "Only for a couple of days, just to be sure you're managing well."

Charles's face lit up with joy, and he nodded.

"I think I would like that _very_ much, indeed."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this update. xx**


	20. Catching Up

**A/N: Thank you so much for your thoughtful reviews. It really means a lot to me to have them.**

 **More notes at the end of the chapter ... For now, on with the show. Time to get Charles home from hospital. I promise a good deal of information in these next couple of chapters.**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Thursday, 2 February**_

Charles was discharged at half past ten on Thursday morning. Elsie had arrived at eight as no one had known precisely _when_ he'd be able to leave, and she'd brought a small breakfast for two along with her (after getting Isobel's approval).

Elsie and Charles had chatted throughout breakfast, settling details for her three-day stay at his place. Given that it was a brand-new flat for him as well, she fully intended to help him unpack; Charles had refused at first, but she managed to convince him that he'd be happier in the long run once it was done - and reminded him that moving and unpacking heavy boxes by himself wouldn't exactly be the 'restful weekend' upon which Isobel had insisted.

With Charles loaded up into the car, Elsie climbed behind the steering wheel and fixed him with a soft glare.

"You never called me," she accused gently. "Or even _texted._ What the hell, Charles?"

Charles had the decency to look ashamed. "I know," he whispered. "And I'm sorry. I slept a solid twelve or so hours after we'd last spoken, and then I seemed to be forever playing catch up, time-wise. I still had to unpack from Toronto, then pack all my other household things. The realtor called with a problem about the flat, and then I had an appointment out of town. And then I was back at Alice's place, and then Mary came …" He shook his head.

"Still, Charlie," she said. "A text? Ten seconds, maximum. You could have done it while in the loo, for Christ's sake."

He was horrified. "While in the- good heavens, woman! You've got to be kidding!"

That did it - the look on his face mixed with the shock in his voice made her laugh uncontrollably.

He watched her, perplexed, and then reached his hand over and took hers gently.

"I _am_ sorry," he said. "It won't happen again."

Charles certainly couldn't tell her the _real_ reason he'd been unavailable; better to wait until he had everything lined up perfectly … just in case.

 **oOoOoOo**

Much to Elsie's surprise, Alice was there when they got to the flat; a glance at the front steps showed that she'd brought the items Charles had meant to pick up the previous day.

"I don't mean to impose," she said as soon as Charles climbed out of Elsie's car, "but I wasn't sure if there might be things in those that you needed sooner rather than later."

"You're not imposing at all," Charles reassured her with a smile. "I appreciate it."

Elsie was occupied with getting her bags out of the back seat of the car, and Alice took Charles aside.

"Look, I know she's staying, and I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable," she said quietly, "but we need to talk about something. It's rather important."

Charles raised his eyebrows. "I'm all ears," he said, intrigued.

Alice's eyes darted to Elsie's car and back to Charles again. She was hesitant - a word Charles usually never thought of when describing Alice.

"Have you told her about Mary?" she asked.

"It's first on the agenda when we get inside," he said, and she nodded thoughtfully. "Alice? What's going on?"

Elsie finally emerged, everything in hand, and she locked the car remotely with the key fob. It beeped twice, and she approached Charles and Alice slowly, giving them a few extra seconds to work out whatever it was they were discussing so intently; however, she couldn't help but overhear them.

"... talk to her," Alice was saying. "And then the three of us can chat."

"I'm sorry," Elsie said as she joined them. "I couldn't help but overhear …"

"Don't worry. It's fine," Charles said, a strange look on his face as he contemplated his ex-wife. "I was just going to suggest that Alice come for dinner, if that's all right. She has something important to discuss with us, and evidently it pertains to what I need to tell you about Mary. And Cora stocked the refrigerator, so I know we actually have food."

Alice checked her watch. "I've got an afternoon full of meetings today with my agent," she said, "but I could be here around six if that suits?"

"Of course," Elsie said. "We're certainly not going anywhere."

"Fine; I'll see you both then." She glanced at the boxes she'd left on the front step of the flat. "That's all of them, I think."

Charles examined them for a second, and nodded. "Yes, I think so."

Elsie watched as Alice got back in her car and drove off.

"Charlie," she said, no small amount of trepidation in her voice, "I can't possibly cook dinner for her. Isn't she some kind of amazing amateur chef?"

"You don't have to," he said, taking one of her duffel bags off her shoulder. "I'll cook."

"You?"

He laughed. "Yes, me. Somewhere along the way these last thirty-odd years, I _have_ managed to at least learn to cook properly."

He turned and headed to the door to unlock it, but he couldn't miss Elsie's snappy, under-her-breath reply.

"Show-off."

 **oOoOoOo**

Elsie ordered in a pizza for lunch, and she and Charles set to unpacking a few crucial boxes containing kitchen items, his clothing and toiletry things, what he needed for his office desk, and what he needed to set up his computer and other electronics.

They studiously avoided talking about anything terribly important during those hours and actually spent most of the time apart, with Elsie setting up the kitchen (after consulting Charles about where he'd like things to be placed - including what she, herself, had brought for the weekend) and Charles concerning himself with the office and his clothing. It was quite domestic, and Charles stole a few glances down toward the kitchen at various times, smiling at how comfortable he was seeing Elsie in it. He'd worried it might be awkward, but in reality he felt as if she simply belonged there. It made him wonder what her place was like, and he made a mental note to ask her about coming by to see it soon.

Elsie could feel Charles's eyes upon her once or twice, and the thought that he was watching her as she hummed away quietly in his kitchen made her happier than she could have imagined. She wasn't particularly crazy about his new place - it was functional and quite clean, but nothing about it seemed quite _Charles_ \- but she thought that maybe with a few personal touches it would be better. It was temporary, though, as he'd said; after they finished the film, he'd likely relocate.

The thought was like lead in her stomach, sobering her instantly, and she wondered just where, exactly, he'd end up. She didn't expect him to leave the area immediately, but she knew he didn't fancy living in LA permanently, so she also knew that her place wouldn't be suitable because of that.

 _Not that he's suggested staying_ _ **there,**_ she reminded herself sharply. _One day at a time …_

"Elsie?"

Charles's voice came down the hall from his bedroom, and she closed the cabinet on the last of the dishes she'd been putting away and headed down to join him.

"Yes?" She wiped her hands on her jeans as she walked in and found him seated at the foot of the bed.

He held his arms held out for her, and she stepped into his embrace.

"I missed you," he murmured into her chest, and she laughed quietly.

"You're mad," she told him, bending to kiss his head. "And you've no sheets on that bed," she added.

"Precisely why I summoned you," he admitted sheepishly. "That, and the fact that I missed you."

"I'm not sure _why,"_ she chided playfully, "as you've been watching me set up your kitchen as though you suspected me of sabotage."

"Nothing wrong with watching you, is there?" He sighed. "I just couldn't quite believe you were in there. It made me remember how we were a few months ago, and I was reminded of how far we've come."

"We've still got a long way to go," she reminded him as stories that she still needed to share with him played through her mind.

"I know." He moved his hands to her hips and looked up at her. "Help me sort the bed, if you don't mind, and we'll sit on the couch and catch you up before Alice arrives."

"Okay," she smiled. "Where are the sheets?"

Charles looked to the corner of the bedroom, where two large boxes from the moving company remained, and laughed.

"Over there?" he said.

"Of course they are!" she cried, rolling her eyes. "And not labeled, I see."

"I'm no housekeeper," Charles grumbled. "I'm lucky if the sheets I packed are the right ones _for_ this bed."

Elsie just shook her head and laughed at him as she turned toward the boxes; she couldn't help it - he was so like the Charles she knew at Uni sometimes that it boggled her mind.

"Some things never change, do they?" she asked.

Elsie gasped when Charles grabbed her from behind, spun her around, and kissed her firmly.

"No," he whispered, the intensity in his eyes sobering her instantly. "Some things never do."

She gulped, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Come on," she told him. "Let's make the bed."

 **oOoOoOo**

Elsie made a pot of strong tea and brought it into the living room while Charles checked on their dinner. She poured them each a cup before settling into the corner of the sofa, her feet tucked up underneath her. He joined her shortly, and she handed him a cup of tea as he sat in the corner opposite her.

"All right," she said firmly. "Tell me what in the hell is going on."

And so, over the course of the next fifteen minutes, he did. He told her about Mary's text, saying she'd been speaking with her father and had a few things to talk to Charles about. She'd seemed frightened, Charles said, and Elsie raised an eyebrow at that; however, after hearing the rest of the story, she believed it.

"And so Carlisle is out to get _Robert_ because of _Mary?"_ she asked, incredulous, and Charles nodded.

"It appears that way. Carlisle and Mary dated a few times, and then when he pressured her for … well, _more,"_ Charles explained, blushing slightly, "she turned him down flat."

"Oh, Charles," Elsie whispered fearfully, "tell me he didn't …"

"No," he answered immediately. "I specifically asked about that. I suspect he's too smart to have gone down _that_ road."

"Thank God," she murmured, and he nodded before continuing.

"This Lavinia Swire woman was apparently working off some debt of her own to Carlisle. Mary heard from her as soon as we got back from Toronto. Lavinia told Mary she was on her way to the police with what she called a 'cracking story' about her father, Carlisle, and some shady business dealings. And she knew Mary would want to know."

"What made her suddenly turn on Carlisle, I wonder?"

"The father died," Charles said morosely. "It was from an illness and not from anything nefarious, but he'd convinced her to come clean. Unfortunately, it was _after_ she'd sent in her story."

"Well, I suppose that's good. Carlisle's stories have always come from rather questionable sources; it's about time he's confronted."

Charles filled in the gaps in the story over the next several minutes: the photos of Mary and Tony, taken with a telephoto lens after Mary had been tailed for a week by a private investigator on Carlisle's payroll; the photo of Robert paying off the man in the alleyway; the pictures of Elsie and Charles that Mary had handed over to Charles when she saw him. The only thing he kept back was the photo of Mary and Kemal … mostly because the thought of it made him ill.

"I can't believe Lavinia just gave them to Mary," Elsie said. "Surely Carlisle has duplicates."

"He won't once the police have searched his place, I bet," Charles said. "Which, come to think of it, probably happened today."

"So who knows about all of this now?"

"You, me, Edith. Mary and Robert, and undoubtedly Cora. And Alice. Oh - and Bertie, because he saw the photos that were sent to Edith."

"And probably Violet," Elsie acknowledged, and Charles nodded.

"Most likely."

Elsie's brow furrowed. "It still doesn't make sense why anything was sent to Edith."

"Doesn't it? It's no secret that she and Mary don't get along," Charles replied, shaking his head.

"I suppose not. And it was _Robert_ who convinced Mary to tell _you._ Why?"

Charles swirled the dregs of his tea around in the cup, staring intently at the scant leaves that were sliding around in the center.

"Her career could be ruined by this," he said quietly, "and she's terrified. She and Robert are a party to blackmail, and she was in a compromising position with a man who is now recently engaged - and who was already dating his fiancée at the time. Edith and Robert weren't sure of that part, but Mary confirmed it. And while that in and of itself hardly sounds the career death knell in Hollywood, it's not particularly good for business. If Robert goes to jail, then the company is lost for sure, because neither Mary nor Edith would take it over."

Elsie had a thought about that, but she filed it away. _This is not the time for_ _ **that**_ _discussion._

"So let me see if I've this all right," she said carefully, ticking each item off on her fingers as she went through the list. "Mary had some illicit affair, photos were taken, and Carlisle has them. He sent a blackmail note to Mary for money; she refused, and so he sent a blackmailer - as yet unidentified - in person to Robert instead, who not only paid the guy off but saw that he got a _job_ at CFP - thus planting him in the perfect position for further manipulation and information-gathering."

Charles nodded.

"Carlisle then sent those photos to Edith, hoping for … well, we don't really know yet."

"Correct."

"Then Carlisle conned this Lavinia Swire into spying on _me -_ or maybe _you,_ we're not sure - and she took pictures of us in what _appeared to be_ a compromising position, although it wasn't at the time, and he published one of them as part of a rather scathing article that broke days after your divorce. That part _still_ makes no sense to me," she said, blowing a bit of fringe off of her forehead.

He nodded again. "Yes."

Elsie's eyes widened; in all the confusion, she realized she was missing one key point.

"Wait. People _know_ you're divorced now, right?" She laughed. "In all the craziness lately, I've not even checked headlines on my phone, let alone seen an actual newspaper. But that has to be public knowledge by now."

"It is," Charles replied. "Alice's publicist made a statement. But given all of the political turmoil in the news nowadays, it wasn't given too much attention. And I am, of course, a relative nobody in the business - as far as the public is concerned, anyhow."

Elsie exhaled slowly, trying to absorb it all.

"So as of right now, the Carlisle mess hasn't gone public, but Edith may have someone do a write-up about how her family has been under attack from nefarious sources?"

"No," Charles corrected. "That would come from Edith herself - as an editorial on the darkness that lies in wait in Hollywood's back alleys," he smirked. "Or something like that."

"Uh ... that's career suicide for her, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily. She's the editor for the _Times,_ not for some half-rate rag like what Carlisle runs. I'm sure she'll manage it well. Edith's forte is in negotiating tricky details, ignoring the pomp and circumstance and getting right to the heart of things. I think she could pull it off."

The doorbell rang, startling them both.

"That'll be Alice," Charles mumbled, making his way to the door.

"Is she usually early?" Elsie asked from a few steps behind him. She glanced at her watch: _five forty-five._

"No," he said, reaching for the door. "Actually, she's not."

And she wasn't early this time, either ... for when Charles opened the door, it wasn't Alice who was standing before them.

* * *

 **Am curious who you think is there, and what you thought of the chapter. A wee review would be lovely if you have the time.**

 **I went back and added some things to this chapter after sending it to Chelsie fan, who has been a remarkable beta. Changing up the plot a bit, which should be (hopefully) fun for her ... and also fun for HogwartsDuo, who has made no secret about my unsatisfactory answers regarding certain plot points. I love you both, ladies.**

 **And finally, to the guest reviewer "Abigal" who asked when I'd ever killed off Elsie and Charles before, I refer you to "Music of the Heart" and its sequel, "Music of Our Lives." I am very proud of how that all went, but I will** _ **never**_ **be able to do that again. Not like that, anyhow. But thank you for asking. I tried to PM who I thought you were, but not sure I got it right.**

 **Thanks so much - CSotA**


	21. Connecting the Dots

**Lengthier A/N at the end. But for now, our visitors must connect the dots … at last. x**

* * *

 _ **Thursday, 2 February**_

"Violet!?"

Charles backed away and ushered her inside.

"Well, who else might you have been expecting?"

"Alice," Elsie said from where she was standing. "But not for a little while yet."

Violet just stared at them for a moment. "Alice?" she asked hesitantly.

"You'd better come in and have some tea," Elsie said. "Charles can catch you up while I get the kettle going." She headed into the kitchen, checked on the roast, and replenished the tea tray.

As far as Elsie was concerned, this day was decidedly _not_ turning out to be what she'd expected.

 **oOoOoOo**

"So Edith is going to go ahead, then?" Violet asked, and Charles nodded.

"That's what Mary said - unless something changes between now and then, of course."

"Good." Violet gave a sharp nod of her own. "It's important for her to do that, to not back down from the threat. This family has withstood some rough waters in the past … particularly Mary. We can do so again."

Elsie saw a look pass between Violet and Charles, and she simply couldn't let it go.

"Will someone please tell me what happened with Mary before? Carlisle has something on her - I can put that much together, and I don't mean that she turned him down for a date. But the thing with Gillingham isn't _worth_ paying out any sum that Edith may receive a request for, so ..."

Violet pursed her lips and looked over at Charles, but he shook his head a bit in clear deference to her.

"Mary found herself in a rather … unpleasant situation a few years back," she said, clearly still upset by it. "She was in a precarious relationship with a young foreign diplomat, a Mr. Kemal Pamuk."

Violet let that sink in for a moment, watching Elsie as the younger woman tried to determine why the name seemed so familiar … and knowing exactly when Elsie put it all together.

"He died," she said quietly. "On British soil. It was rather … suspicious."

"He died in Mary's bed," Violet stated bluntly. "An overdose, some drugs that he'd brought with him that Mary knew nothing about."

Elsie was staring down at some random point on the table, but she nodded slowly. "And Mary _hates_ drugs … I remember that came up a few weeks ago, when some of the others on set were chatting nonchalantly about having tried a few things and she told them off."

"Precisely. But, apparently, someone had found out about their secret affair then, had even followed Pamuk and taken a photograph of him with Mary, and now it's been sent to Edith's office along with the other things."

Elsie's head snapped up and she looked into Violet's grey eyes. "You suspect _Carlisle_ found out about _that?_ But _how?"_

"Who knows? But who else would have sent that particular photo? It arrived in the same envelope as the ones of Mary with Tony Gillingham, along with the one of Robert paying off that scruffy-looking man. And the only other person who knew about the death itself is Anna Bates, who was working for us back then, when John was still in London."

Violet stopped to take a sip of her tea before continuing. "I trust Anna implicitly; she is definitely _not_ behind this. No - someone sold that _particular_ photograph and story to Carlisle, and I don't think we'll ever find out who it was. Not that it matters now."

"Well, I think we _do_ need to find out who that was," Charles said. "Because clearly there are things we're missing."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the doorbell rang again. He checked his watch and shot Elsie an uncomfortable smile.

" _That_ will be Alice," he said needlessly. "A bit late, which is unlike her - but good for us, I suppose." He went to open the door and let her in.

Elsie looked at Violet a bit awkwardly as the two women stood. "Look, Violet, I'm sure it's strange for you to see me here …"

"On the contrary, Elsie," Violet said warmly, reaching over to pat her hand, "I'm glad he's come to his senses at last."

Elsie's eyes widened but she didn't have time to speak before Charles brought Alice through.

"It's nice," Alice was saying, looking over the apartment with a scrutinous eye. "Clean. Small, but probably all you need. You never were one for glitz and glamour, Charles."

"No, I wasn't."

"Alice … hello." Violet nodded curtly at her.

"Violet."

Elsie felt as though the temperature in the room had dropped, and she stifled a smile at the pride she felt in the rather nice conversation _she_ had just been having with the Crawley matriarch.

"I was just leaving," Violet said. "Keep me up to date with everything, Charles."

She turned to Elsie and added quietly, "And you. Remember what I said, please; I _am_ glad."

The corner of Elsie's mouth turned up in a small smile, and she nodded appreciatively.

"What was that all about?" Charles murmured quietly as Violet let herself out.

"Nothing much," Elsie said evasively.

Charles noticed that Alice was looking around at the things he'd unpacked; he couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside her head.

"Alice?"

She turned and smiled sadly at him. "Dinner first, perhaps. What are we having? It smells lovely."

"I've got a roast in," Charles told her. "It'll be ready soon."

"I brought this," she replied, pulling a bottle of wine out of her bag. "I presume you brought the opener you love?"

"Top center drawer," Elsie piped up, slightly annoyed at feeling like a third wheel. "Underneath the toaster."

Alice's laugh startled Elsie, who couldn't quite figure out what was so funny.

"Charles, the fact that you bought a toaster for this place is beyond hilarious," Alice teased.

"Oh, it's Elsie's,"* Charles said, and Elsie saw a ghost of a smile playing about his lips. She wasn't quite sure if _Alice_ had seen it, though. "She was appalled at the thought of being without one for a few days."

He looked over at Elsie with fond amusement, and she blushed at the overt attention.

"I see," Alice replied quietly. "Well, I'm sure that makes sense."

Elsie didn't know what to say to that, and so she simply followed Alice and Charles into the kitchen and fetched some glasses as Charles peered into the oven, checked the potatoes for doneness, and checked the thermometer that was plugged into the roast.

"Looks like this can actually come out now," he said, and Elsie heard a bit of relief in his voice. Yes, it would be much easier once they were all eating, and they all knew it.

Alice set the table while Elsie helped Charles plate things up; he sliced the roast once it had rested for a bit, and they chatted about nonsense things while eating dinner: weather, annoyance with taxi drivers, some political rumblings from some of their actor friends. Elsie discovered that she and Alice had a few friends in common, business-related ones anyhow, and it surprised her a bit that she'd not run into Alice even once before Charles had reappeared in her life.

Once the plates had been cleared and the last of the wine disappeared, Charles turned to Alice.

"What was it that you needed to discuss, Alice? It must be important."

"It is," she agreed, sitting back in the chair and licking her lips, decidedly uncomfortable. It wasn't a look Charles was used to seeing, and he was suddenly wary of what was to come.

"You said it had to do with Elsie as well?" he prompted, and Alice nodded.

"Yes, indirectly. It's about that mess regarding Robert, and that stupid article in the paper with your photo from London."

"I see."

She sighed. "I know Edith received a package a while back," she said lowly. "And I know what was in it."

"Of course you do," Charles said. "We discussed it."

"No," she clarified. "We discussed that Carlisle was out to get the family, and that he was trying to involve Edith."

Elsie and Charles exchanged a look.

"All right," he acknowledged. "And I did mention she received some photos that indicated she was going to be blackmailed."

"Right. Well, I know what they were." Alice's eyes were focused on Charles, and Elsie felt her heart skip; she knew Charles had discussed the basics with Alice the other day … and that Alice had feigned complete ignorance about it all until Charles brought her into the loop.

"What?" Elsie's voice was high-pitched; unlike her, Alice presumed. "How could you possibly know what they were pictures _of?"_ She wasn't even sure why she asked, as the answer was now obvious to them all.

"Because I know who sent them," Alice admitted, picking at her cuticle instead of meeting their inquisitive, astonished looks. "Because I was with him when he stuffed them in, _and_ when he mailed it."

Elsie felt a shudder pass through her body. _No,_ she thought, _it can't be. What would be the chances?_

"Charles," Elsie said quietly, "have you _seen_ the photograph of Robert handing over that payoff?" She watched as Alice blanched upon hearing the words, and she knew she was right.

"No," he replied, clearly a bit agitated. "But Mary described it to me. She didn't know who it was."

"I think I do," Elsie said, looking pointedly at Alice. "It's Charlie Grigg, isn't it?"

"What?" Charles was flabbergasted. "How do you know that?"

"Why else would Alice know all of this?" Elsie replied calmly, her gaze still intent on Alice. "I'm right, aren't I, Alice? It's why you're here … because you were a party to it all along. Unless you're involved with Carlisle, but I highly doubt that."

Alice looked tearfully at Charles. "It's true," she whispered. "I managed to see the photos as they went into the envelope destined for the _Times._ I didn't say anything at first because … well, I was a bit afraid, truth be told, and I didn't think Edith would actually do anything about it, anyhow. She sure as hell wouldn't pay anyone off like …"

"Like Robert?" Charles asked, clearly getting incensed. "I see. Kind of you to just make that assumption. What the hell, Alice? How could you not say anything to the family - to _me?"_

And then the rest of the truth hit as Charles did the math. "Wait. You knew he was planning something like this _before_ we separated! You were with him then; I know you were, because -"

Elsie's cool hand on his wrist cut him off instantly. "It doesn't matter, does it?" she asked quietly, gently squeezing his wrist and then caressing the underside of it with her finger. "None of that matters now, Charlie."

He calmed almost instantly under her touch and managed to swallow back the rest of what he'd been about to say.

"I suppose not," he grumbled, but his eyes were virtually shooting daggers at Alice.

"Why are you here, Alice?" Elsie asked. "Why tell us all of this now? The deed's been done, and we already knew Carlisle was behind it."

Alice looked down at her hands once again, ashamed to have to admit the truth.

"He's left me," she said quietly. "Charlie, I mean. He 'no longer needed me,' he said." She barked out a harsh laugh. "I suppose he didn't. He'd gotten the job at Robert's studio, gotten a lot of secrets from people here and there -"

"Well, I can assure you that he'll be _losing_ that job tomorrow," Charles interjected.

"Too late," Alice said, looking at him. "He's done a bunk. Took the cash I had in the house and scarpered off last night with all of his things. Left a note, if you can believe it. 'It's been fun, doll.' That's what he wrote. Didn't even sign his name. And so I have no proof of what I've told you ... and no idea where he is."

"Alice? Do you still have the note?" Elsie asked, and the other woman nodded. "Don't throw it away, please. Can you get it to us, or at least a copy of it?"

"I can do one better," Alice said, digging her phone out of her handbag. "I snapped a photo of it; figured you'd want proof I'm not lying." She tapped a few things on her phone, and they all heard Charles's phone vibrate from where it lay on the kitchen counter, charging.

He got up to retrieve it, opened the message, and showed it to Elsie.

"Thank you, Alice," Elsie said, smiling broadly, and she turned to Charles. "Call Edith, and have her call the police."

"Elsie?"

She showed Charles the note, and a satisfied smile came to his face as he nodded slowly.

"What is it?" Alice said, clearly missing something.

"The envelope Edith received had a blackmail note in it from when Robert paid Grigg off," Charles explained. "And I'm going to bet that it matches this handwriting one hundred percent."

"She received a _note?_ I didn't know that," she said. "Well, then, I'm _very_ glad I kept this one and got a picture of it for you."

"Alice," Charles asked thoughtfully, "do you remember precisely what you _did_ see going into that envelope?"

"Just a couple of photos. Looked professional, and they were ... they made my skin crawl," she said. "They were close-ups of Mary and Tony Gillingham." She looked at Charles sympathetically. "She's our _niece,_ Charles. Seeing her like that … I know it wasn't right."

"Definitely not - no matter who it would have been," he agreed. "Were there others?"

"There was one of Robert handing over the money. That's it, I think."

Charles looked at Elsie and raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head with a clear, silent _I have no idea_ in her eyes.

"What am I missing?" Alice asked.

Elsie sighed. "There was one other thing," she said, "but it doesn't matter. Edith has everything now, locked up somewhere safe. If Grigg contacts you, Alice, I advise that you go straight to the police. You don't need to be mixed up in this anymore."

"He used me," Alice spat. "Believe me, I will be heading to the police station directly from here, and I'll have them on speed-dial for the foreseeable future."

Elsie was impressed, she had to admit. For a fleeting, fear-filled minute, she worried that now that Alice was free, she'd be back for Charles.

But at that very moment, as if reading her very thoughts, Charles brushed his fingertips over Elsie's thigh, and she caught the reassuring look in his eyes and knew she had nothing to fear.

Alice thanked them for dinner as they all walked to the door. She turned and kissed Charles on the cheek, and then - quite unexpectedly to everyone, even her, perhaps - she reached over and squeezed Elsie's hand.

"You make him happy," she said simply. "And he deserves to be happy. Just don't let him overdo it."

Elsie nodded slowly, once again unsure of what to make of the woman who stood before her.

"Don't worry," she said quietly. "I won't."

Alice took one more look at Charles. "Goodbye, Charlie."

"Goodbye, Alice."

Elsie watched as Alice left, and she felt that she wouldn't be seeing her again for quite a while.

 _Thank God._

"Well," Charles said, closing the door, "that was something."

He turned around and gathered Elsie in his embrace.

"You're feeling all right?" she asked.

"Perfectly fine," he reassured her as his hands drifted down toward her bottom.

"Charlie," she warned, "you're not supposed to overdo it."

"I'm also supposed to exercise periodically," he reminded her, kissing her on the tip of her nose. "If you recall."

"But you hate to exercise," she said, a quiver to her voice. Her resolve was waning rapidly as she recalled Isobel telling her in a very hushed conversation that morning that sex _wasn't_ off limits as long as they didn't get _too_ carried away.

"I used to," he corrected gently, taking her hand and leading her toward the bedroom. "Not anymore."

"I see," she breathed. "Well, then, I suppose if we're careful …"

Charles smiled brilliantly as she passed by him into the bedroom. He clicked on the lamp by the bed as she closed the blinds, and they met in the center of the room for a long, lingering kiss.

"Perfect," he said. "This is absolutely perfect."

He kissed her again, and she happily hummed her agreement.

* * *

 _ ***I had to have Elsie bring the toaster. Because I love you, Stoki. :)**_

 **A/N: Put it at the end this time. So … Alice is nice/not nice. She deceives to cover her ass, but then again so do a lot of folks. And she does care for Charles. I've really enjoyed chatting with you all about her. It's tricky writing a character that** _ **exists**_ **in canon but isn't actually** _ **seen**_ **in canon. I cannot see her as entirely bad, because otherwise canon Charles never would have loved her. But the only canon knowledge we have of her is that she left Charles for Grigg and ended up regretting that decision. I tried to pull that in here as much as possible and she will show up once or twice again, but only briefly. (Cheers from the "sick of Alice" crowd, I know.) lol**

 **Thanks again for all your awesome reviews. More answers are coming - including Elsie's story - in the next couple of chapters. And thanks as always to chelsie fan for her awesome beta work.**

 **xxx**

 **CSotA**


	22. Living A Little

**A/N to follow. x**

Previously ...

 _"But you hate to exercise," she said, a quiver to her voice. Her resolve was waning rapidly as she recalled Isobel telling her in a very hushed conversation that morning that sex wasn't off limits as long as they didn't get too carried away._

 _"I used to," he corrected gently, taking her hand and leading her toward the bedroom. "Not anymore."_

 _"I see," she breathed. "Well, then, I suppose if we're careful …"_

 _Charles smiled brilliantly as she passed by him into the bedroom. He clicked on the lamp by the bed as she closed the blinds, and they met in the center of the room for a long, lingering kiss._

 _"Perfect," he said. "This is absolutely perfect."_

 _He kissed her again, and she happily hummed her agreement._

* * *

 _ **Thursday, 2 February - Friday, 3 February**_

His fingertips were digging into the flesh on her hips, and she knew the sensation she felt mirrored what he must be feeling on the tops of his shoulders where she grasped him tightly, looking down on him as her hair cascaded around them. They were moving slowly and deeply, utterly carried away from the mundane scene of the sparsely furnished bedroom.

They weren't speaking. They were barely making any noise at all, in fact, but they were communicating without words in a way that was almost more intimate than their present physical activity.

She needed to shift positions and pulled on his right shoulder; he sat up a bit and lifted her body so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. It allowed _him_ to move a bit more freely as well, and he held her small body easily in his grasp, the new angle plummeting them both into sheer bliss in a matter of seconds.

He was vaguely aware of holding her tightly, his arms wrapped around her as though he would never let go.

Given the opportunity, he wouldn't have.

He tipped his head forward to kiss her shoulder, salty from her perspiration. Tilting his face a bit to the right, he nibbled her earlobe, then soothed it with the tip of his tongue.

She shuddered at the sensation, and as her breathing steadied, she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked deep into his eyes; her own were a shimmering sea of infinite shades of blue, and he was absolutely enraptured.

He didn't think he'd ever been as completely, blissfully content as he was in that very moment.

 **oOoOoOo**

Elsie lifted her head from Charles's chest and glanced around the room. She giggled upon noticing that her blouse had landed on the box in the corner, remembering how Charles had flung it across the room rather carelessly about an hour earlier.

"What?" His voice was a soft, gravelly sound, and his fingers were drawing gentle circles on her back.

"It's rather a mess in here," she said, pushing herself off of his body enough to capture his lips in a kiss. "For a place you've just moved into, especially."

"So it is," he agreed.

She returned to her original position and listened to his heartbeat, the slow, steady rhythm providing reassurance that he was, indeed, fine.

"Everything all right?" he asked after a few silent moments, and she nodded.

"Just listening to you," she replied. "To your heart; it's beating steadily, and you seem calm."

He laughed at _that._ "Of course I'm calm after all _that,"_ he replied cheekily. "Sleepy."

"You usually are," she said, placing a kiss over his ribcage. "I love this, Charlie. Being here with you, shutting out the rest of the world for a while."

"Me, too."

Five minutes later, Elsie could tell he was asleep; his breathing had slowed and deepened a bit, and his arm had become heavier on her waist, his hand resting just over the base of her spine. It occurred to her that neither of them had managed to shower or even brush their teeth; her hair was undoubtedly a tangled mess, and there were still dishes in the sink waiting to be washed.

And none of it mattered.

She didn't think she'd ever been as completely, blissfully content as she was in that very moment.

 **oOoOoOo**

The next morning and afternoon were fairly quiet. Elsie had brought her laptop with her and was messaging back and forth between Robert and Thomas about the upcoming week's schedule, and Charles managed to finish unpacking while she was working. Joseph had texted, wondering about a few of the items for the new set they were working on, and Charles seemed happy with the result of their conversation.

"You like him now," Elsie observed, looking up from her computer and smirking at Charles. "Admit it."

"He's very good at his job," Charles allowed, pocketing his phone again. "A bit lacking in self-confidence, but at least he's not arrogant."

"He's kind," Elsie added. "And Phyllis adores him."

"Does she?" His eyebrows flew up, and Elsie laughed at him.

"Come on, Charles," she said. "There's no way that even _you_ didn't pick up on that."

"I could tell she liked him, yes, but I wouldn't have said 'adores.' "

"Well," Elsie replied, glancing at her screen and clicking on a new email, "she does."

She typed away for a bit, but after a few minutes she looked back up at him; Charles was staring at her intently.

" _I_ adore _you,_ you know," he said lowly, and a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I find it hard at times to remember how uncomfortable it was when I first joined the project team, how I was dancing around you and unsure of what to expect."

"Oh, Charlie," she said, nibbling on her lip as she extended her hand toward him. "Come here, love."

He readily complied, taking her hand as he sat beside her on the sofa. He slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close, placing a kiss to her temple.

"I adore you, too," she said. "And while I _can_ remember how uncomfortable it was seeing you waltz in on _my_ project, I did get over it rather quickly."

She closed the laptop with a smirk and set it aside before tucking herself in more closely to him, her arms wrapping around his torso.

"We've got a little over a month before we wrap," he said. "Where do we go from there? I know this project brought us together, but I'm obviously not letting you go when it's done."

"A lot can happen in five weeks, Charlie," she said. "One day at a time, remember?"

He pursed his lips, and she could feel him tense.

"What is it?" she ventured.

"This 'one day at a time' thing," he said carefully. "You keep saying that."

"And? It's a good plan, I think."

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, genuinely curious - and a bit suspicious, because he was pretty sure he _knew_ what was holding her back.

"Who says I'm afraid of anything?"

But Charles felt her tense up a bit, and he knew he'd hit a nerve; the problem was, he couldn't really pretend he hadn't been just a little worried.

"You'll have to tell me eventually, you know," he said. "If there's any chance of _this -"_ He squeezed her tightly. "- working."

"I know," she murmured, her eyes filling with tears.

Charles heard the catch in her voice, and he reached down and tipped her chin up so that he could see her better. "Hey," he said, "what's all this?" He gently brushed the gathering tears with his thumb.

"I know I need to tell you," she said. "I've just … it's so stupid, but I've never told _anyone_ about what happened back then, Charlie. Not even Joe. Not all of it, anyhow. It's not like it was anything truly horrible, not by today's standards, but … well, it was really painful how it all played out."

He nodded thoughtfully, knowing that whatever fears she had in her mind were possibly worse than the reality … knowing how, over time, one's mind can twist and change things in unexpected ways.

"I won't be scared off this time," he told her firmly. "Not now that I've got you back."

"I don't think that," she said.

"Are you … Elsie, did something happen that you're ashamed of?"

She hesitated, and a sliver of fear crept into his heart before she quelled it.

"Not really, no. I don't feel _I_ did anything wrong, exactly … except the way I treated you." She fiddled with the seam on the side of his trousers and leaned a bit more heavily into his side.

"You didn't treat me badly," he reminded her. "Well, not really. Your mother, on the other hand …"

"I know." Elsie's fury climbed just at the thought of it all, but she knew she wasn't a completely innocent party; she'd never filled Charles in on the whole story, never told him the truth about her family even before she'd gone home to Scotland … because of Becky.

"It's in the past, Els," he said. "It's not worth your anger now."

"I know you're right," she replied. "It's just … it's painful to revisit."

Charles shifted, forcing Elsie to sit up; she turned a bit to face him as he took her hands in his own.

"I don't want to settle for anything less than _everything_ with you, Elsie Hughes," he said sincerely. "We have a past, and it is, in many aspects, a lovely one. But this … this _thing_ seems to hang between us, and I think it's making you afraid to wholly commit to me, to _us._ And I know it may seem ridiculous to talk about firm commitment after so little time, but I think you know how I feel."

"I do," she whispered tearfully. "And I feel the same; truly, I do. It's just …"

He tilted her chin up and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

"It's an open wound," he murmured, trailing his finger over her heart. "And you'd do better to stitch it up and let it heal."

She looked down to where his hand lay resting over her chest, and nodded.

"There's a bottle of Scotch in the cupboard," she said. "I stuck it in there last night. Fetch me a glass, and maybe one for you as well. And then … I'll tell you everything."

* * *

 **A/N: First off, I'll update again in about a day. I don't mean to leave you hanging, but Elsie's story deserved to (mostly) stand on its own.**

 **I do hope I've not made things too confusing as we've gone along. And it's hard to answer questions from a guest review, so pardon the following comment if you weren't confused yourself, but I felt I needed to explain something.**

 **Got a question from a guest about how neither Alice nor Robert knew about the pic of Mary and Pamuk, and that therefore someone besides Grigg sent it.**

 **Actually, there's not concrete evidence that Robert knew or didn't know specifics. We** _ **do**_ **know that** _ **Alice**_ **didn't see Grigg slip that one in the envelope - she said so. But that doesn't mean it wasn't there. She assumed she had all the info, but given that when Bertie and Edith received envelope we know** _ **everything**_ **was in there, we are left to assume that Grigg kept Alice in the dark about some details. I'd say the easiest assumption was that she saw him put a couple of photos in the envelope and didn't realize there were already other things inside.**

 **I didn't want to explain all that in the narrative because I thought it would get boring, but let's presume that Grigg is pretty savvy … he knew that even Alice would have her limits. Let Mary be caught in an illicit affair, sure. But implicate her in a suspicious death? Probably not even Alice would have supported that. Grigg didn't have that pic for Robert the first time around, either - Robert only saw it when Edith brought it over.**

 **The only question remaining (I hope) is ... how, exactly, did Carlisle get it? :)**

 **Special shout-out to the detail seekers. You guys really make my day.**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**


	23. Elsie's Story

**A/N: Please be sure you've read Chapter 22, which only posted yesterday, before you read this one.**

 **We're finally at Elsie's story. Sorry for the mini cliffhanger in the last chapter. And there is ONE MORE small one coming, but ... trust me. And it's not now.**

 **Thanks to Chelsie fan for all of her amazing help, and to all of YOU who review so faithfully.  
**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Friday, 3 February**_

Charles returned from the kitchen with two tumblers of Scotch - his with ice, hers without.

"You know me so well," she smiled half-heartedly, and they clinked their glasses together.

Elsie took a large sip from hers, swirling the liquid around in her mouth and enjoying the burning sensation as she swallowed it; she could feel Charles watching her, but she felt no pressure to speak. She knew he was being patient in the face of his desire to understand everything, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

"I'm not even sure where to start," she said. "It was all so long ago." She laughed, a sharp sound that surprised him. "Over fifty years ago, actually, when it _really_ began."

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Well," he reasoned, "perhaps start there? I know precious little about that part of your life, other than what I gleaned from the one time I met your parents. I know that you're an only child from Argyll, which was a farming community. You adored your father, who insisted you go to University. Your mother disliked me ..." He frowned for a moment. "Your father died shortly after I met him … and then you disappeared."

"Almost correct," she replied with a nod, and he tilted his head, intrigued at just which part he'd gotten wrong. "Well, then … the beginning."

She sipped the Scotch again. "I grew up thinking I was an only child. Only I wasn't, technically, because I had a half-sister."

"Oh … so you _weren't_ exaggerating."

"What?"

"When you said Becky was your sister 'in all the ways that matter,' I had assumed she was a cousin or something."

"Ahh … No. She was my father's _other_ daughter."

"So she was older than you."

Elsie looked at the amber liquid in her glass. "No," she whispered sadly. "A year and a half younger, actually."

Charles sipped his drink, unsure of what to say.

"I never knew she even _existed_ when I was very young. Mam didn't know, either, for the first few years, anyhow. Da somehow managed to keep it from her, although I've no idea how."

"That must have been painful for her, when she found out," he allowed, and Elsie nodded sadly.

"It was. I remember that they had a horrible row; I think I was seven years old at the time. I remember Mam slamming doors, and someone threw a pot or something. I couldn't be sure what it was, really, as I was in my bed, supposedly asleep."

"How did she figure it out?"

"Oh, he told her," Elsie said. "The guilt - I think it had gotten the better of him. Or maybe it was the money. We never had much, and I know now that he'd been paying for Becky's keep. Her mother … well, she was basically useless most of the time, I think."

Charles nodded.

"It was never mentioned again in our household - at least not to me - until my Mam talked to me about it when I was about twelve. I knew that she and Da were having their problems: money was tight, the farm was failing, and she'd miscarried at least twice that I knew of, always wanting to expand our family but not being able to do so. That took quite a toll on her, I think, particularly in the face of how Da had another child living four towns over."

"I'm sure."

"The hardest bit was that Becky was born … well, she wasn't quite right in the head," Elsie said quietly. "She didn't go to a regular school, and her … condition, I'll call it, because I'm not quite sure _what_ it was, was exacerbated by the fact that her mother didn't really know how to handle her. Becky was simple-minded, but prone to fits of temper. She could learn, but not very much. Still, Da had insisted that she would never be placed in some type of sanatorium or home."

"That wouldn't have been that unusual, back then," Charles remarked. "Especially in rural Scotland, I'd imagine."

"No, it wouldn't have. But with Da's help, Becky's mother was able to make a go of it for a while." She smiled fondly at a fleeting memory. "I remember the only time Da brought Becky to the farm. She stayed for a week when her Mam was ill."

"Your mother allowed that?" He was astonished, unsure if he'd have had the strength to do what Elsie's mother had done given the same circumstances.

"Grudgingly, yes. But she said it would be the only time."

"And did you get on?" he asked. "You and Becky, I mean. Were you like proper sisters at all?"

"Oh, yes," Elsie smiled. "Very well; we took to one another immediately. I knew she'd be different, from what Da had told me, and I was quite patient with her, if you can believe it."

"I can," he reassured her, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

"Becky's mother died when I was fifteen," Elsie continued. "Becky was devastated. She had some kind of mental breakdown and went to live with an aunt. But the aunt couldn't be arsed to take care of Becky properly; after a few months, she had Becky hospitalized. Becky was starting to lose her ability to speak by then, and whatever condition she had was beginning to deteriorate her physical capabilities. The hospital was expensive, and it took all of the insurance money that had been left to Becky within a few short years."

"I'm surprised there was any insurance at all," Charles said. "That was rather fortuitous."

"My Da had insisted," Elsie replied. "As soon as it became clear that Becky would need long-term care for the rest of her life." She smiled, thinking back on her father. "He was truly ahead of his time, my Da."

"But the money ran out," Charles said, and Elsie nodded.

"Yes. It was in a trust controlled by her aunt, and there wasn't much, but it helped for a few years."

"And your Da still helped as well, I'm sure."

"He did," she said, nodding sadly, "which continued to drive a wedge between my parents. They were good people, but Mam never got over the feeling of having been betrayed."

"Understandable."

Charles got up and refilled their drinks, sensing that Elsie needed a break. She shifted her position while he was up, and when he returned and handed her the glass, she smiled up at him, encouraged him to sit more closely to her, and he took her hand in his and laced their fingers together loosely.

"Do you know _why_ he did it?" Charles asked. "In the beginning, I mean?"

"Because Mam wouldn't … well," she said, blushing slightly. "She had me, and I gather I was a difficult bairn - difficult with feeding, not sleeping much …"

"Ah. And he sought comfort elsewhere."

"It was horrid of him," she said. "And it didn't last forever, obviously; as I said, Mam was pregnant a couple of times afterwards, but …"

She looked up at Charles. "I was _so_ angry with him when I found out, when I realized he had some _other family_ out there. I thought maybe he didn't want us, that I wasn't good enough. But as I got older, that dissipated. I had always loved my Da so much - _always -_ and I eventually decided that while I was sad that he and Mam weren't getting on well, that she was angry with him, _my_ life had gotten even better in a strange way. I had a sister, and a Da who doted on us both."

"And then you went to Uni," he said, causing Elsie to nod.

"I did. And then I met you," she added, smiling and kicking his foot gently with her own. "And I was in heaven."

"And then …" Charles's heart was breaking as he watched Elsie live through it all again, but he felt the need to push her through the rest of the story nonetheless, knowing it was better to get it all out in one sitting as opposed to in smaller chunks over the next couple of days.

"He had a heart attack, yes, and I had to go home. It was bad, and his prognosis wasn't good." She took a large sip of her drink, and her voice cracked when she spoke again. "He died before I even made it."

"Oh, Elsie," he whispered, lifting her hand and kissing the back of it. "I'm so sorry."

She nodded. "As soon as I'd sorted the funeral arrangements with my Mam, I went straight to the home where Becky lived. She was happy to see me at first, because she hadn't been told …"

"She must have been beside herself," he said, squeezing Elsie's hand, and she nodded.

"She didn't know why he hadn't visited the Saturday before," she whispered tearfully. "He'd always visited her on Wednesdays and Saturdays."

"Your mother never called the hospital to tell them?" he asked, slightly horrified that Margaret Hughes wouldn't have had the desire - or perhaps the foresight - to even do that one small thing for her husband's other daughter.

"Oh, she called them," Elsie said harshly. "Told them the money would be gone now and that Becky was their problem. The nurses were shocked when _I_ walked in the door, I can tell you. Becky had been quite ill, evidently, which I hadn't known until I arrived. They thought I was there to take her home. They hadn't even gotten around to breaking the news of Da's death to her."

"How awful."

"Exactly," she agreed. "Evidently Becky, simple-minded as she was, had come to the same conclusion as the nurses, thinking I was there to get her out and take her home. And so, right then and there, I decided that's what I would do. The nurses could do nothing more for her, and they told me she'd be better off at home, surrounded by her family for … for the remainder of her life. And, of course, it was left to me to explain what had happened."

"Did she understand?"

"She did," Elsie said. "She was simple-minded, but she knew what death meant."

He nodded. "And so you brought her to the farm?"

"I had no other choice, or believe me - I'd have gone somewhere else. But I had no home of my own, and as far as I was concerned, Becky was as much a part of our family as I was. I called my Mam and told her we'd be arriving on the late train," she recalled, "and she unleashed a string of words I'll never forget as long as I live. _'Elsie May Hughes,'_ she said, _'you bring that bastard of a sister to this house, and I'll not lift one finger to see to her care. She's not_ _ **my**_ _problem.'_ It wasn't a surprise, really, but it hit home. I knew I'd have to leave my schooling - my entire life, really," she said, squeezing his hand, "but that I had no other choice. Mam was furious, but she acknowledged that I'd made my decision."

"And her feelings didn't deter you," he said with a small, loving smile. "No … Not _my_ Elsie May Hughes - champion of the underdog and the downtrodden, with her heart of gold."

He picked up their hands and placed another kiss to the back of her fingers. "It's why I fell in love with you all those years ago, you know," he added quietly. "You were sticking up for Robert when some idiot was teasing him about his family's money. Do you remember?"

She nodded immediately. "Oh, yes," she said. "I punched the idiot for it, too. Robert was horrified!"

Charles laughed. "That he was! But I was enchanted. Here you were, this small spitfire of a young woman, standing up for someone you barely knew because you felt he'd been wronged."

"Got to know you lot a bit better after that, though," she said.

"Yeah," he whispered, remembering. "So I'm not surprised you stood up to your Mam, not for something that was so important to you."

"Becky was the only bit of Da that I had left," Elsie said soberly. "Or so I thought at the time. I didn't understand then that he would always be alive in my memories, too."

"Well," he reasoned, "you were probably in shock at the time. It was a lot to deal with, and you were essentially all alone."

"Yes," she said, sipping at her drink.

"So … you got her to the farm?"

"I did. She was actually quite easy on the train, despite her conditions, because she was so happy to be out of hospital and with me. She asked if I'd be staying forever, and I told her that I would, and she reached over and hugged me tightly." Elsie bit down hard on her lip, trying to quell the emotions that were rising up once again. "I'll never forget that moment as long as I live."

"I'm sure you won't," he murmured.

"The rest I am sure you can figure out," Elsie said after a few moments. "Becky's health rapidly declined, which I'm sure was from the shock of losing our Da, and I became her round-the-clock caretaker. I've never been afraid of hard work, Charlie, but that was the hardest thing I'd ever done. I imagine it's how parents feel, caring for a sick child, but Becky was nearly an adult."

"And you just twenty-one," he said understandingly.

"Exactly. It seemed overnight I'd gone from student to full-fledged nursemaid, learning as I went along how to bathe, clothe, and feed her even when she was being belligerent or felt ill. I had to clean up after her, of course, and within a few weeks she was completely bedridden. To this day I'm not sure what it was that afflicted her. It was like her brain was just shutting down on her faster than we could keep up with it all. And then losing Da … well, I think I knew she'd never recover from that."

"Did she ever see a local doctor?"

"Once," she said. "When she had a fever and I couldn't get it to go down. But he said it was likely just associated with her condition and that it would be worse at that point to move her because she was finally calm during her waking hours. She'd settled in well, but moving her would have been too traumatic. He feared it might cause a heart attack, or even a stroke, and we didn't want to risk it."

She took a shaky breath, her lip quivered, and she burst into silent tears.

"So she never got better," Charles whispered, his heart breaking at the thought of Elsie having gone through such a harrowing experience.

"No," she finally managed, and he handed her a handkerchief. "Thank you."

"For how long did she live with you?"

"Ten months, approximately," Elsie said. "Mam had forbidden me to tell anyone about her, and it wasn't worth risking her wrath at that point to do so. When we went to the doctor, I told him she was a cousin whose parents had died. Mam could have made us both leave if I didn't do exactly as she said, and then we'd have had nowhere to go. We had no family left; I had no degree, no job. So I did what she instructed … kept everyone in the dark, and lost _you_ in the process. I couldn't very well tell you over the phone, not with the neighbors listening, and then the letters ..." The last word was almost a squeak as she brought the handkerchief to her mouth.

"Hey," he said soothingly, putting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing gently as she quietly cried. "You did the right thing, you know."

"I know. Along the way, while I was in the middle of it all, I didn't think so. But now I know it was the only option. I adored her, Charlie."

"I'm sure you did. And we all make decisions we question later on," he mused. "But you probably gave Becky some of the happiest months of her life. You said she was calm at your home, and that was likely due to _your_ steady love and care, Els. She'd found a warm spirit in you that she never had in her own mother, and you were the only person who could understand just how much she missed your Da once he was gone."

"Mam should have understood that, too," she grumbled. "She should have tried."

"Another woman's child, though," Charles said. There was no judgement in his voice, no negativity at all, just the simple fact of the matter. "I can see where that was hard. From your Mam's perspective, she must have seen Becky as the root of all of the problems she and your Da had on the farm. I don't agree with that being true, not from what you've told me, but I am sure it was a contributing factor."

Elsie nodded, sitting a bit straighter. She swallowed down the remainder of her Scotch, her hand trembling but her heart feeling a bit lighter. Charles took the glass from her and put it on the table.

"Mam didn't like you because she thought I'd leave Becky at home and run off with you," Elsie said. "It was like she didn't want us there - well, didn't want _Becky_ there, but we were a package deal at that point - but she didn't want us gone, either."

"No, because then she'd truly have been all alone."

"Precisely."

"What happened when Becky died?" Charles asked, his voice but a whisper, as though he were afraid the loudness of it would shatter Elsie completely.

"We had a small funeral. Mam allowed me to at least have her properly buried. It took the rest of the savings I had for school, but I didn't care. She's buried by Da, in Argyll, alongside his parents. Mam is with her parents in a different part of the cemetery - her father had insisted on that when she and Da were married, if you can believe it."

"And then you met Joe?"

Elsie nodded again. "Yes. I actually had known him for a while, but he was home on holiday just after Becky died and we ran into each other a few times. He asked me out to dinner one night, and that was the beginning of it."

"And his father died suddenly, like yours; I remember you telling me that."

"Yes. Joe was in school for architecture, and Mam and I were making our way on the farm. I was trying to build up a bit of savings again and had taken a job at the local grocery. But then Joe's Da had a stroke; he dropped to his knees in the fields … he died almost instantly."

"How awful," Charles whispered.

"Joe came home again for the funeral and never left. He proposed six months later, and I accepted."

"Were you happy? You know … in the beginning?"

"I was," she said wistfully. "Very much so. I had given up on my own dreams by then, but Joe inherited his family farm. I knew the life, and so it wasn't too hard to transition back. It took about two years for me to become antsy, wanting a bit of the excitement of school again, and we agreed that we had the money for me to finish my degree. And once I did, I landed a few jobs here and there, and the rest is history."

She sighed heavily. "We grew apart when I began traveling, and I think Joe had someone on the side when I was away for long periods of time. It bothered me for a while, but then it didn't. And as I've told you before, when I didn't miss him anymore I knew it was time to end it, for both our sakes."

Charles stood up and took their empty glasses into the kitchen, deposited them in the sink, and returned to the sofa.

"Come here," he said, reaching for her hands and pulling her up.

"All right." She stood, and he wrapped his arms around her, filling his senses with the scent of her perfume, the warmth of her body, and the sound of her breathing.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear, and he brushed his lips over the edge of it as he spoke. "I love you more now than I did then, if you can believe that, and I'm never letting you go. I am glad you told me the whole story, but I don't regret a thing that happened back then, not now that I know everything."

"How can you say that?" she whispered, looking up at him. "We could have had our entire lives together."

"But not like this," he pointed out. "We'd not be the people we are _today_ if we had never been parted _then._ Don't you see? All of our experiences since then have shaped us, altered us into who we are today. I'm not sure I'd appreciate _this_ as much if I hadn't lived the life I've lived," he said, squeezing her tightly and smiling down at her.

"Perhaps not," she agreed. "So ... now what? Where do we go from here?"

"Well," he said slowly, "if we're following your 'one day at a time' plan, then I say we go to dinner. Neither of us is up for cooking, I'd wager," he chuckled, and she swatted him playfully. "And it would be nice to get out for a bit."

"And after dinner, Charlie?"

He dipped his head for a long, sweet kiss.

"Then, if you're amenable, I say we plan all of the _other_ days after this one."

His eyes twinkled, and her own twinkled right back.

"I think that sounds like an _excellent_ idea, Charlie."

"How do you feel?"

She thought about it, and then wrapped her arms tightly around his torso, placing her ear over his heart once again.

"Better," she whispered. "Thanks to you."

* * *

 **H** **ow's everyone doing? Okay? Would love to hear from you if you have the time to leave a little review. x**


	24. Planning

**A/N: Ahh, you guys are amazing. Thanks for all the reviews you left on the last chapter. I tried to reply to everyone and hope I didn't miss anybody.**

 **My ultimate goal is to keep these guys in character as much as possible. We know that, in canon, Elsie never told Charles about Becky until she was forced to do so, because it was a secret that only her family shared. We also know that Charles wasn't deterred at all once he found out that information. I realize that it seems likely he'd hold that against her given the past that I've given them here … but that's not what happened in canon and so I didn't want to go down that road.** **I _never_ see any point in having them fight if it's out of character for them, particularly when canon tells us that once the ball gets rolling, our Chelsie gets together pretty quickly thereafter (for them, anyhow). They bicker and meddle and argue, but at the end of the day they're never difficult or mean just for the sake of being so. I didn't want to create more drama and have more chapters of them being angry. They're just ... well, an old married couple, and they kind of always have been.**

 **We have reached the final few chapters of this story, and we have a lot of things to resolve. Thanks to everyone who's been along for the ride.**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Monday, 6 February**_

Elsie headed home very early on Monday morning. She'd told her neighbor, who'd been visiting and feeding Boots, that she'd be back Sunday night, but she just hadn't been able to leave Charles's side after he'd seen her through the sharing of her story.

She felt lighter this morning, though. It seemed to her as if an invisible burden she'd been bearing had been lifted, one that she'd never have known she was carrying had she not just confessed it all the day prior.

Charles had reminded her last night that the sharing of burdens is one aspect of being in a committed partnership, and she had to agree. It wasn't in her nature to be open about her life, really; she never had been when she was younger and she certainly hadn't let Joe in on every little thing that made her tick, either. But she wondered if she might be able to change … if, maybe, she was finally ready for what she knew Charles was offering.

The day ahead promised to be difficult. Hell, the _month_ ahead promised to be difficult. There was a bit of catching-up to do today with filming certain sequences, and then she needed to be in on the editing end of things, too, which would be starting up soon. She'd be lucky to even _see_ Charles, particularly once the expert interviews for the documentary started, and part of her wished she'd never had to leave him this morning.

But that would have been irresponsible, and they both knew it: she had Boots to think of, a flat to be sure didn't remain empty, and with everything going on with Carlisle and Grigg, it wouldn't be a bad thing for her and Charles to spend some time apart … at least in public.

Putting the car in park and withdrawing the key from the ignition, she sighed heavily. Then she fetched her bags from the back of the car, locked up, and headed in to kiss her cat and take a quick shower before this crazy week started.

 **oOoOoOo**

Edith snatched the mail from the box and tucked it underneath her arm.

"Anything good?" Bertie called from their bedroom.

"Don't know yet," she replied with an unseen roll of her eyes. "Hands are full."

She set down the box she'd been carrying and sifted through the envelopes.

"Bertie? Come here, please," she called back, staring at the small blue envelope that was clutched between her now-trembling fingers.

"What is it, love?" he asked, still toweling off his hair as he came into the kitchen.

She glanced over at him, taking a half-second to appreciate his jeans-and-tee-clad self before turning back to the envelope.

"Guess who?"

She held it out, and Bertie tossed his towel aside, took the envelope from her hand, and opened it. It took him very little time to read its contents before showing the note to Edith.

"Twenty thousand," he said lowly. "Payable Saturday; cash only and no cops."

Edith laughed.

"That's what _they_ think," she muttered. "It's got instructions for some sort of drop box spot."

"Shall I call your father?" Bertie offered, but Edith shook her head.

"I'll do that," she said. "Why don't you give Charles a call … followed by the police?"

Bertie put his hands around her waist and drew her close, placing a kiss to the tip of her nose before touching his lips gently to hers.

"We'll get him," he said. "This was all we needed; the rest is all in place. You just need to speak to the police, and then reply to this and set the plan in motion."

"I know," Edith sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Finally."

 **oOoOoOo**

Mary plopped down on her sofa, completely exhausted. It had been a long day filming, and while she and her mother had only ten or so more days before they were finished, Mary thought that making it until the end would be nothing short of a miracle.

 _Richard Carlisle. You son of a bitch._

She remembered him so well it made her sick. Just the thought of his hands on her … She shook her head almost violently, as if doing so would rid her mind of him completely. She'd thought he'd given up a long time ago.

Now she remembered just how patient a man he could be, despite past evidence to the contrary. He'd promised she'd live to regret having turned him down and sent him away, and now her whole family was wrapped up in it all.

Those horrid pictures of her and Tony, of their rendezvous during his on-again/off-again days with Mabel Lane Fox, sent to her _father._ Mary had no idea how Richard had found out about the tryst, and she didn't much care to learn. She just wanted the entire situation to be over and done with. And added to those were the things that Edith had received.

 _And Pamuk. How the fuck did he know about_ _ **that? No one**_ _knows about that! Bloody hell ..._

She forced herself to stop thinking of Richard Carlisle. And as she sent her mind off in another direction, it was the meeting from the beginning of the filming project that she landed on - the day when she and Charles had stumbled in late.

She remembered her father's words:

" _... nearly in danger of going under … it's been quite a struggle being at the helm of this company … the old standbys like us take a hit … close-knit relationships … dying market … sink-or-swim moment ... I'm counting on you all …"_

She remembered the way her mother looked tonight when Papa had shown up to collect her. Mary had seen relief mixed with exhaustion and had realized instantly that what she'd always thought would never happen was likely now quite imminent, indeed: this would be her parents' last project at the helm of Crawley Film Productions. Once Mama was done with this project, once the premieres and (please God) the awards season was done, Mary fully expected that her parents would be walking away from it all. John and Anna would follow, of course; Anna Bates was a very hard worker, but she'd never stay on full-time in her business with a babe to care for, and Mary didn't see John missing a chance to see his son or daughter grow up, either. John had been with Robert since before he'd had taken over the company … it was strange to think of _John_ not being there, either.

It left Mary feeling rather terrified, if she were honest with herself. She'd always maintained that she never wanted to inherit the company, and she knew neither of her sisters wanted anything to do with the family business at all.

But _now_ the thought of giving it up broke her heart. Now that she'd gone through this particular project, she wasn't sure if acting was quite where she wanted to spend the rest of her life. It had made her a hefty bundle, to be sure, but Mary realized that she had ideas for how to improve a few things on the management end. Her parents had always referred to CFP as Mary's "potential back-up plan," and she'd been thinking more and more about that over the past year or so.

 _Maybe,_ she told herself as she clicked on the television, _there_ _ **is**_ _a way you can take it over after all._

It was something she'd never have thought imaginable before the _Granthams_ project ... But the more she turned it around in her mind, the more she liked how it was looking.

 **oOoOoOo**

Cora reached for Robert's hand in the back of the limo. She still didn't see the need for her to continue utilizing the limo service, but Robert had insisted that the company wouldn't cut any corners where she was concerned.

She shook her head when she thought about it. He always had liked to spoil her.

Cora closed the little window to separate them from the chauffeur and afford them a bit of privacy.

"Long day?" he asked, and she tucked herself a bit more closely to his body and nodded.

"I'm exhausted, Robert. Up at dawn and not done until almost ten!"

"I know." He tipped his head to the right and rested it on hers. "Five weeks or so until we're completely done, but you only have a couple weeks. That's not bad."

"True."

He considered his next words very carefully.

"Are you tired because of having to work with Mary? Or because you're tired of the role?"

Cora smiled - Robert could see it even from the angle at which he was looking at her; it was in the rise of her cheeks and the crinkle by her eyes. She knew him so very well after all these years, and she had heard his real question in the unimportant ones.

"You know what I mean. I think … I think I'm done, Robert. I've had such a fabulous career, I truly have. I was able to raise our daughters and then dive back in - well, _mostly._ I've been able to be by your side always, and we have such an incredible family. And through it all, you've kept CFP strong and alive, forging your own legacy along the way, just like your father did." She squeezed his fingers. "I'd say we did it right."

"I like to think so," he agreed softly. "It wasn't always easy, but we _have_ made quite a go of it …"

She heard his hesitation. "But …?"

Robert shifted sideways so that he could tilt her chin up. He kissed her softly, tenderly, and then touched his forehead to hers.

"But nothing. I'm ready to leave it all behind, Cora. I have been for a while now. I was just waiting for _you._ I knew you weren't ready, and I didn't want to force you."

Cora closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the smell of Robert's cologne - her favorite of the ones he wore - invading her senses.

"I'm ready _now,_ Robert. I see grandchildren in our future. I want to be able to enjoy that," she said, smiling at him. "With _you."_

"I know. Me, too."

They spent most of the ride home after that in silence, but when they neared the long drive to the house, Cora asked suddenly, "You'll tell Charles soon, won't you?"

It wasn't accusatory, but just an expectation.

"I'd like to, yes," he said, and he smirked. "Although lately, I think his own career and the fate of CFP are pretty low on his list of priorities."

Cora giggled. "True. Oh, but it's lovely, isn't it?"

"It's … strange," Robert mused. "I am happy for them, of course."

"Don't tell me you're sad for Alice," Cora said. "You never did like her."

"No, not really," he agreed. "I'm not sad for her, specifically, but I just hope Charles knows what he's doing."

"Oh, Robert. He's been pining away for Elsie since you were all in school together. That _never_ changed, despite how hard he tried to make it work with Alice."

"I know. But _Elsie_ wasn't pining away for _him."_

The limo pulled up in front of the house, and as the driver was getting out, Cora leaned over and kissed Robert's cheek.

"Don't be so sure about that," she murmured.

His eyebrows flew up as the driver opened his door; Robert got out and extended his hand to his wife.

"What makes you say that?"

"She'd talk about him on occasion," Cora confided, having kept the secret for so long now that she whispered the words, afraid of letting anyone else hear. "Always insistent on how furious she was with him … how much she never wanted to see him again."

Robert sent Cora's driver off and turned back to his wife.

"And … what? You think she was trying to convince you of something that wasn't true?"

"No," Cora smiled sadly. "I think she was trying to convince _herself."_

 **oOoOoOo**

Charles finally got home at ten o'clock that night. He grabbed a plate and dished out some of the takeaway he'd picked up, put the remainder in the refrigerator, and headed into the living room to try and catch the news before bed.

He stopped short just after passing through the living room door, immediately after turning on the light. There, draped over the back of the sofa, was one of Elsie's scarves. It looked so _right_ there that it took him a moment to remember she didn't live here with him … seeing it almost made him think she'd be walking in the door any moment now.

It made his heart hurt a bit, and he sat heavily on the side of the sofa that he'd already come to think of as _his side_ over the past few days.

The television stayed off. Instead, a picture show of images played through Charles's mind. He didn't even taste anything he was eating, so focused was he on the memories of Elsie at Uni, of her leaving to go home … letters written and sent, received and not … meeting Alice, her bright smile and kind touch, and the way he'd grasped onto something new. Those were followed by days when he still felt _young:_ holding a newborn Mary in his arms, and then - much later - Sybil. He recalled not being there when Edith had been born because he and Alice had been on location in Australia for a project of hers, but he remembered Cora saying that _Elsie_ had been there, and he'd thought at the time that it was for the best. He wondered now how it would have been seeing her then, whether or not just the sight of her and the sound of her voice would have jolted his heart as it had done that first day he'd walked into Robert's meeting room this past August.

It was all unimportant now, he realized, for he truly believed what he'd told Elsie: they wouldn't feel exactly the way they did about each other _now_ if they hadn't gone through what they had _then._

He finished his food and set the dish on the table, then drank the remainder of his wine as he sifted through all of the more recent memories. He was using them to work out the details of a plan of sorts, one that he was sure he'd completely flub up before it could come to fruition.

 _Still … a few more weeks to get through first,_ he reminded himself.

He had a feeling, judging from how distant Cora had seemed lately and how exhausted (and now threatened and overwhelmed) Robert had been these past couple of weeks, that this would be the last CFP project to come down the line.

It both terrified and thrilled him in equal measure.

* * *

 **Would love a wee review if you have the time. x**


	25. Q & A

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for their kind reviews, and to Chelsie fan for her amazing beta work. xxx**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, 7 February**_

Elsie's phone rang loudly Tuesday morning, waking her from a sound sleep. She struggled to open her eyes, reaching blindly by the clock until she located the phone itself.

"Hello?" Her voice was gravelly, and she cleared her throat.

"Good morning, beautiful," came Charles's voice over the speaker. "I'm sorry; I know I woke you, but I have to talk to you before you go in today."

Elsie sat up in bed, suddenly wary. "Why? What's happened?"

Charles chuckled. "Well, for one, I've missed you. I sleep _much_ better when you're beside me, which is strange to me given that we've not been together all that long."

"True," she said, smiling at fond memories of the nights they _had_ managed it. "But I know that's not _really_ why you're phoning me at five in the morning."

Charles sighed. "No. There _is_ something else. Edith received a demand for money. She's following through with the ruse, given that we know Grigg is behind it. The police were called, as were Robert and I. Everyone agrees that it's best not to put it off any longer."

"Wait a minute," she replied, shaking her head to clear away the remaining drowsiness. "Surely that could put her in danger! She can't do that, Charles."

"She won't be in danger," he reassured her. "But the demand was for a ridiculously small amount of money, in the grand scheme of things. There would only be more in the future if they actually paid it, and so a plan had to be devised. The police are orchestrating the entire thing, Elsie. Not to worry."

"But what if she _is_ in danger, Charles? What if something happens? What if he has someone waiting and out of sight … someone with a _weapon?"_ Her anxiety was rising quickly, and Charles knew he had to calm her down.

"Elsie, please listen to me. She won't actually be going herself. The police are sending an undercover officer in her place. Wig, trench coat, things like that. Grigg has never actually _met_ Edith, so they're hoping he won't recognize the difference. Besides, Alice assures me he's not violent."

A pause. "You've spoken with her, then?"

Charles was hesitant. "Yes," he said after a few seconds. "Last night. She called me to see if there was an update, and I asked her for an honest opinion about Grigg's mental status."

"I see."

"Elsie," he chided softly, "don't be like that. She knows she has a part in all this, and she's prepared to be quite helpful. I believe her first order of business today is to call the police and see what kind of assistance she can give." He paused, then added, "She's been a part of the family forever, Elsie; we're Mary's godparents."

"Then how could she have stabbed them all in the back?" Elsie wondered. "Because I don't understand that _at all."_

"I know you don't. I don't either, not really. All I can say is that, for quite some time now, Alice has been feeling the effects of her age. I think she saw her fling with Grigg as a way to feel desirable again."

"That's preposterous," Elsie scoffed. "She's a Hollywood star in extremely high demand!"

"Not as high as you'd think," he confided. "She's been turned down more times in the past year than she had been in the five before that. I'm not sure how Grigg fit into all of it, but what I gather is that he wined and dined her on the pretense of being much more well-connected in certain studios than he actually _is._ She fell for it hook, line, and sinker. And she cared for him, too. Of that I am quite positive. I don't mean to sound like I'm excusing her actions, because I'm not. But I don't think Alice saw the entire situation like you and I do … she was too involved with Grigg by that point."

Elsie didn't have a reply to that. Evidently, Charles and Alice had spoken about quite a few things last night. But Elsie knew all too well what aging meant in Hollywood - Cora's experience had been proof enough: her trouble breaking back into the business at the age of only forty after having stayed home to raise the girls had been a huge blow to her self-esteem.

Not only that, but Elsie knew about Robert's briefly wandering eye, too.

She sighed. She supposed it wasn't _that_ hard to imagine that Alice Neal, despite her past as being a top-billed star in Hollywood _and_ in London, could be suffering from the same insecurities.

"She made a piss-poor choice," Elsie said. "Leaving _you_ behind, I mean."

"Well," Charles replied softly, "I do think _that_ was for the best. And it was a long time in coming, too."

"I suppose I can't complain, can I?"

"No, you can't," Charles said, and Elsie could hear in how he said the words that he was smiling. "She and I had our run, but once she shot to the top, I had no desire to be part of that. We did grow apart, and she certainly has betrayed Robert - and the rest of us - but I think she's trying to salvage a bit of the person she used to be."

"All right; we'll go with that theory. You are defending her, you know. But I suppose that if she's helping the police, and given that she _did_ come forward of her own volition … well, that's something."

"Agreed." Charles glanced at the clock. "You need to get moving," he said lightly. "I just wanted to fill you in. It's possible the police will swing by the studio to question a couple of us either today or tomorrow. I didn't want you to be caught unawares."

"Thank you for that," she said. Then she took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and added, "I do love you, Charlie. And I didn't mean to insinuate that I don't trust you."

He chuckled. "I know. And _I_ love _you_. I'll see you in a little while."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye, Elsie."

She hung up the phone and got up to head into the shower, already thinking about the day ahead. It promised to be a very busy one with filming, editing, and two meetings …

As she reached for the shampoo, she had to laugh. With all she had going on today, she realized, it was almost a guarantee that _this_ would be the day the police would show up to see her.

 **oOoOoOo**

Phyllis Baxter popped her head into Elsie's office.

"A Detective Willis to see you, Elsie. Charles asked me to let you know."

Elsie looked up from the paperwork strewn about her desk. "Please tell me he's not coming in _here,"_ she pleaded, and Phyllis laughed.

"No, but he's in Charles's office. Wants to speak to you both. I believe Edith Crawley is also in there, and Mary."

Elsie blew her bangs off of her forehead and nodded. "Very well. Do I have five minutes to finish up a couple of things so I don't lose my place?"

"I'm sure that you do. I'll let them know." She stepped out, and Elsie made several quick notes on post-its, stuck them to the papers she was gathering into various piles, and grabbed her tea before heading down the hall to Charlie's office.

When she arrived, everyone was seated around the small conference table, with one remaining seat vacant for her.

"Ms. Hughes, I presume?" The gentleman she did _not_ recognize stood and offered her his hand; she shook it firmly, noting his neat appearance and kind eyes. He smiled, and she returned the gesture.

"Please," he said, waving his hand toward the empty seat. "We were just finishing up with Edith."

"Hello, Elsie," Edith said quietly. "I'm glad you're here."

"Well, I thank you for that," Elsie replied, "but I'm not sure how much help I can be."

"We just want to be sure everyone's account of the events is accurate," Detective Willis said, "and your name came up a few times."

He consulted his notes, flipping back and forth over a couple of pages. "Now, Ms. Hughes … You were aware that Ms. Crawley - Edith, that is - received a blackmail package in the mail?"

"Yes," Elsie answered carefully. "Robert was the one who told me. He alluded to it when a small group of us were filming in Toronto, and I gather he had to speak with Mary about it." She looked over at Mary for confirmation, and the younger woman nodded curtly in agreement.

"I see," Willis said, jotting that down. "And I understand you can attest to the likely _identity_ of the blackmailer as well?"

Elsie hesitated.

"Please, Ms. Hughes," Willis said kindly, "I just need to know what _you_ know."

Elsie bit down on her lip for a moment, thinking of the best way to say it. "I don't have _direct_ knowledge of that, no. I _was_ part of a conversation where a suspect was identified by a third party - someone who is not present at this meeting."

But Willis was already ahead of her. "That would be Alice Neal - Mr. Carson's ex-wife. Is that correct?"

Elsie nodded. "Yes. She told Mr. Carson and me that she knew a gentleman who was planning to blackmail the family. I gathered from the conversation that she wasn't privy to all of the … _details_ … of what the blackmail request contained, however."

"I see," he said again, writing a brief note. "And you had no reason not to believe her? No reason to think she had an ulterior motive for getting this man into trouble?"

The question took Elsie aback. "Such as?"

"Such as a personal complaint against him?"

Elsie considered her words _very_ carefully before saying, "I do believe that Ms. Neal and the man in question were involved in a romantic affair. I do not, however, know any specific details about the relationship, if that's what you mean." She glanced at Charles, afraid she'd embarrassed him by saying that in front of the younger Crawley ladies, but Charles just gave her a small smile and a reassuring nod.

Willis was looking at his notes. "Were you aware the relationship had been severed?"

"I was told that, yes," Elsie admitted. "But not the when or the why, really. You'd have to ask Ms. Neal about those things."

Willis looked up at Elsie, then over at the rest of the people seated around the table.

"Don't worry, Ms. Hughes. I spoke to her this morning, and what you've shared with me only backs up her story. She and I will be chatting again, too."

The rest of the time was spent verifying dates and details: when Edith received the letters, the dates of Mary's tryst with Tony Gillingham and the details surrounding her involvement with Carlisle, and the status of CFP in general.

"It's declining, financially," Mary stated. "Which is why blackmailing us really makes no sense. Given how things have gone lately, even if we have a stellar success with the _Granthams_ project - which isn't destined to be a huge money maker anyhow simply based on the type of film it is- it's quite likely that CFP will need a massive overhaul over the next five years in order to stay solvent. Who blackmails a failing company? It would be more likely if Carlisle were in the business himself, if he were competition. This entire disaster simply makes no sense."

Charles looked over at Elsie, eyebrows raised in surprise, and she understood immediately:

 _Mary knows more about the business than we thought._

 **oOoOoOo**

Willis left twenty minutes later with a promise to be in touch soon; by then, everyone was emotionally exhausted, and Charles suggested they all call it a day.

"We can all meet later on in the week, perhaps, when we know what's happening," he suggested.

"The deadline for the drop is this weekend, so I hope Detective Willis works fast," Edith said.

"Are they still planning to send a decoy?" Elsie asked, and Charles and Edith both nodded.

"They are," Charles said. "They just want to be sure that Grigg is the only player in this. If they can't pin him to Carlisle then half the battle is lost. But if there are other people involved that could testify to Carlisle's interest in ruining Robert, then that could prove extremely beneficial."

"And the Swire woman?" Mary asked. "Surely they'll speak with her?"

"I think they already have," Charles said. "At least, that was the impression the detective gave me when he first arrived."

Elsie brushed her hand over Charles's arm. "I've got a few things to go and sort out," she said to him. "Come and find me before you leave?"

He nodded, smiling softly, completely aware of Mary and Edith watching him intently.

Edith caught her sister's eye and smirked; Mary, so often out of sync with Edith, couldn't help but agree wtih her this one time … Charles looked happier after a couple of weeks with Elsie than he _ever_ had with Alice.

 _It's about time,_ Mary thought. _Now perhaps he'll actually give retirement a go._

 **oOoOoOo**

Charles knocked on Elsie's half-opened door and walked into her office, smiling at the mess still residing on her desk.

"I _have_ made _some_ progress, I'll have you know," she laughed. "But I don't see 'leaving early' as an option for me."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

She considered that. "Perhaps," she allowed. "It's just finalization of schedules, really. I have a slew of appointments to schedule, a few interviews to sort with the publicity folks, a couple of calls to make regarding distribution, and the editing schedule to sort out."

"That's all?" Charles smiled at her. "Well, I suppose I could help you make some calls, and perhaps assist with the editing schedule … You have a list of scenes and so forth, I presume?"

Elsie nodded.

"Good. Why don't we order some food and get settled, then?" He approached Elsie's chair and then leaned forward to kiss her forehead as he rested his arm loosely over her shoulders.

"That sounds divine."

They ordered pizza, which was Charles's suggestion (much to Elsie's surprise), and were about halfway through it when her phone buzzed; her hands were greasy and so she ignored it, but two insistent text beeps later followed by another round of ringing had her concerned. She wiped her fingers as best she could and unlocked the screen.

"Oh, my goodness," she whispered, and she looked at Charles with concerned eyes. "It's Anna."

"Anna? Is she all right?"

"I hope so," Elsie said, already reaching for her handbag. "The messages are from John. They're on their way to the hospital. I'd told him to let me know when it happened, but …"

Charles was already grabbing her coat and helping her into it. "How far along is she?"

"Um, about seven months," Elsie breathed, and she tipped her head up to kiss him quickly on the lips. "Oh, my God, Charlie … that's too _soon."_

Charles quickly covered the pizza and tossed the uneaten pieces in the trash as Elsie stuffed the papers they'd not gotten to yet, along with her laptop, into her briefcase. He took up her keys, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"You let John know we're on the way," he instructed. "I'll drive."

She nodded, clearly terrified.

* * *

 **A/N: I swear this is the last cliffhanger ending. Please do leave me a note and let me know what you thought!**


	26. Of Boys and Men

**A/N: With my thanks to Chelsie fan for her lovely beta work. I'd also like to give a shout-out to meetmeinstlouie. I've repurposed a quote we're rather fond of and hope she'll forgive me.**

 **Thanks once again for all your lovely reviews. As we come to a close (thirty full chapters in total, and one epilogue), I hope everyone likes how the story is being resolved. There is not a ton of detail about every story line (because BORING) but you'll get the gist of it all by the time we're done.**

 **One minor note based on a question I'm asked frequently:** _ **How do you update so fast?**_ **This fic was mostly written when I started posting, and has been entirely finished for a while now, save some minor editing.**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, 7 February**_

They were halfway to the hospital when a thought suddenly occurred to Elsie.

"Shit," she muttered.

"What is it?" Charles glanced over at her before returning his eyes to the road, but the stress pouring off of her was almost physical in nature.

"The Derby reopening," she replied. "It's this weekend!"

"And?"

"And we need to be there," Elsie said, rolling her eyes. "Or, at least, _I_ need to be there."

"I fully intend to go as well, as long as you don't want me to stay away," Charles said kindly. "But I don't understand why it's a problem."

"But Edith -"

"Will be busy making sure the event is adequately covered," Charles reassured her.

"That's the problem. Everyone _knows_ that, Charlie," Elsie said patiently. "So won't our little friend also assume she'll need to be _there_ instead of dropping off a bag full of untraceable cash?"

"Ahh," he nodded, understanding. "I'll give Willis a quick call while you're in seeing the Bateses."

Elsie reached over and patted his knee. "Thank you."

Charles smiled at her. "You always were the mother hen," he said. "Watching out for everyone else. And I'm glad of it; that's a rather large snag you've just brought up. Grigg has done some foolish things, but he doesn't seem foolish _himself_ \- and Carlisle doesn't, either."

They arrived at the hospital and Charles pulled into a parking spot at Emergency.

"Rather tired of rushing to the ER," Elsie muttered, and Charles heard the fear in her voice.

"Tell me about it," he quipped, making her chuckle. "Come on." He took her hand and led her in through the automatic doors.

John was waiting for them. "Thanks for coming," he said. "She's fine now. They're both fine."

"What happened?" Elsie's concern was evident in the slight shaking of her voice.

"Early labor pains," he said. "We were scared, but her water didn't break and she feels fine. The baby's heart rate was elevated for a bit, but it's back down now."

"Thank God," Elsie breathed, and Charles squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"She'll be on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy though," John informed them.

"I'm sure _that_ went over a treat," Elsie smirked. "What about the business?"

"Actually," John said, digging in his pocket for something, "she wanted me to ask you about someone …" He withdrew a slip of paper. "An Ethel Parks? Anna's wondering if she'd be interested in filling in at all."

"I haven't spoken with her in ages," Elsie admitted, "but her little boy must be in first grade by now. I'll give her a call and see. It'd only be half-days, though, until probably two o'clock, I'd imagine."

"Which would be better than the zero hours Anna can work," John replied. "She will rest better if she knows it's been taken care of."

Elsie took the paper as a reminder to herself, tucking it into her purse. "Consider it done. If Ethel isn't available, perhaps I can find someone else. I'll talk to Gwen about it. Now, may I see Anna?"

"Absolutely," John said. "She's been waiting for you, I think." He pointed past the nurses' station. "Third door on the left just after you round the bend. And she needs to _sleep,_ so if you'll reinforce that, I'd appreciate it."

He smiled, and Elsie saw the toll that the experience had taken on him. She reached over and gave his arm a squeeze, then relinquished Charles's hand before heading on down to see Anna.

The men watched as Elsie disappeared around the corner, and John plopped down in a nearby chair, Charles joining him after placing his call to Willis.

"What a day," John muttered, rubbing his hands over his face and grimacing as the stubble scratched his palms.

"Well, at least Anna and the baby are fine," Charles said reassuringly. "That's all that matters."

John glanced around the waiting area, checking that everyone else present was otherwise distracted, before turning his attention back to Charles.

"This blackmail thing," he muttered. "What do you make of it all?"

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Robert has filled you in on everything, I hope?"

John nodded. "Yes, I think so. Including the upcoming plans."

"Good. I think the whole thing is idiotic, actually, although it's dangerous. And it's rather _ironic,_ given Robert's feelings as of late." He hoped John would know what he was referring to, and when the younger man nodded, Charles gave a faint smile.

"Precisely. If this had come when CFP was in its heyday, that'd be one thing. But while Robert doesn't want the family to be scandalized, he really wouldn't mind an excuse to walk away from everything, either. He's feeling a bit out-of-date, and I can see why. All these companies coming out with blockbuster films that are chock full of CGI and everything else. The market really isn't there for the type of things the Crawleys have been famous for producing."

"I know. And he's tired, I think," Charles mused.

"I agree. I'm glad this entire situation didn't put _him_ back in the hospital." John sighed. "I think this is the last film, for better or worse. Cora let something slip when she was talking to Anna the other day, something about looking ahead to the future."

"Hm … interesting. Well, I'm sure we'll find out soon enough." Charles considered the man beside him. "I'm glad we've been able to work together at last. Robert values you, both as an employee _and_ as a friend. Your sense of discretion and loyalty are a credit to you, I don't mind saying."

John was taken aback. The estimable Charles Carson had a bit of a reputation, but wearing his heart on his sleeve was not part of it at all. Hearing words spoken from his heart wasn't a common occurrence, and John knew it.

"Thank you for that," he said quietly. "It means a lot to me."

Charles just nodded, nothing more needing to be said.

 **oOoOoOo**

"Oh, are you a sight for sore eyes," Anna said, fatigue evident in her voice as she reached her arms out to an approaching Elsie.

Elsie rushed to her bedside and leaned over for a hug. "Are you all right?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Mostly," Anna admitted.

Elsie laughed. "Honesty really _is_ the best policy."

"Especially where you're concerned," Anna chuckled. "I know better than to hold back from you." She reached her hand down and absentmindedly caressed her swollen abdomen. "This little bruiser has been quite the challenge," she admitted quietly. "I was terrified. I don't mind saying that while the idea of bed rest makes me want to climb the walls, I'll soldier on with it like a good girl as long as he's safe."

"He?"

"Well," Anna whispered, looking into Elsie's blue eyes, "I'm sure John wants a son. So I'm hoping."

"I don't think John cares one way or the other, as long as you're both safe and healthy at the end of it."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"I'll call Ethel when we leave," Elsie said. "With that settled, you'll rest much easier."

"We?" Anna smiled broadly. "So … that's going well?"

"It is, rather," Elsie answered, her cheeks pink. "Much to the surprise of many people, I imagine."

"Not to John," Anna smiled.

"Really?"

Anna shook her head. "He's been watching Charles watch _you_ for months now. When the rumor of the divorce began circulating, he started to actually _root_ for you. I've never seen him like that."

"You've got to be kidding," Elsie scoffed.

"Not at all. John really likes Charles - he respects him for the work he does and for how he seems to keep the peace on set with Mary. And he admires the friendship Charles has with Robert." She smiled again. "And we're glad you're happy, Elsie. You really deserve this."

"Well, _quietly_ happy," Elsie admitted. "Small steps. It's strange, you know. Like something that's entirely new and exciting, but with tiny things that happen and make us feel like we're back in time. I suppose, after a while, those will just blend in."

"Well, I'm glad you've worked through what you needed to," Anna said.

Elsie reached over and patted Anna's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of affection. "We have. And one day, I'll tell you the entire sordid story. But not today. Today, my dear, you need to rest. Get some sleep. I'll call Ethel and Gwen and see if we can fill in your schedule."

"Bless you," Anna said. "I truly don't know what I'd do without you."

Elsie stood up from the bed and gave Anna one more hug.

"Likewise," she murmured. "Now you keep that strapping boy safe and sound in there, do you hear?"

"Yes, Ms. Hughes," Anna replied with a playful smirk.

 **oOoOoOo**

Elsie reached for Charles's hand as he drove them back to the office to get their things.

"Long day," she sighed, exhausted, and Charles squeezed her fingers.

"I say we pack up quickly and you let me make you dinner," he suggested. "I believe I have a cat to meet."

She turned to him and laughed quietly. "Meeting the cat already? That's pretty serious, Mr. Carson."

He kept his eyes on the road, but he pulled her hand toward his lips and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

"I am pretty serious about _you,_ Ms. Hughes. Surely you knew?"

Her heart fluttered, and she leaned over and hugged his arm, resting her head on his shoulder as he drove.

"I had an inkling," she said. "But it will continue to amaze me for a long time to come."

"Well, then, that's all right," he replied quietly, smiling to himself as he slowed to a stop at the end of the road. He turned to kiss her forehead. "As long as you never _forget."_

She nodded, overcome with emotion as he approached the studio's street.

"Can you do a steak?" she asked suddenly, and Charles's laughter was loud in the car as he turned into the gate at CFP, nodding to the guard on duty.

"I think I can manage that," he said.

"With a small, unseasoned piece on the side for Boots," she added. "Then he'll love you forever."

"Consider it done."

* * *

 **Would love to know what you thought! xxx**


	27. Elsie's Plan

**A/N: These last few chapters come with song lyrics from "Dimming of the Day" with my thanks to Hogwarts Duo/chelsie-carson for allowing me to steal one of her favorite Chelsie songs. She was especially kind to do so in light of the fact that I sent her the first half of this story ahead of time, to ask her opinion on some things, and then left her hanging by not showing her anything past Toronto. :) Thanks, dear.**

 **The song is on my Spotify account for this fic but is also readily available on YouTube.**

 **In keeping with the every-other-day schedule, we're set to wrap (pun intended) in about a week and a half. I cannot thank you enough for all of your wonderful support. I know things won't end up resolved in a way to please everyone (I can tell this just from the reviews), but that'll have to be okay, I guess. One benefit of pre-writing it was that I wouldn't be tempted to change the trajectory of the story based on the reviews. I've rather enjoyed that … I hope you don't mind.**

 **As always, love to Chelsie fan for her spectacular beta work. She really is remarkable.**

 **A bit M at the end.**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Come the night you're only what I want**_

 _ **Come the night you could be my confidant ...**_

* * *

 _ **Tuesday, 7 February**_

They stopped at the butcher's and the vegetable market on the way to Elsie's, and then at Charles's place for him to pick up a few things.

Finally home, Elsie took a deep breath and felt herself relax a bit. She deposited the groceries in the kitchen and smiled when she heard the pitter-pat of four small feet.

"Hello, love," she cooed, reaching down to pick up Boots. She cuddled him to her and he bopped her chin with his nose. "Ohh, I've missed you."

Charles chuckled softly as he watched the two interact, but he was hesitant to go over to them.

"Charlie, meet Boots," Elsie said, approaching Charles slowly.

"All right," he said softly, reaching over _very_ slowly to scratch Boots behind the ears.

"And feel free to have a look around." She gave a nod toward her small hallway. "I've got to feed him anyhow and that'll take a few minutes."

She squeezed the cat again and placed a kiss to his forehead, with her own forehead bumping into Charles's hand, and he felt his heart melt all over again.

Boots purred and pressed his head further into Charles's hand, rubbing against his palm.

"He likes you," Elsie said, smiling. "That's a rather wonderful thing, really, as he's not very good with company coming over."

"He doesn't bite, does he?" Charles asked, nervous. "I'm not really an animal person, and sometimes they can sense that."

"No, of course not," Elsie said. "He hides, usually. With your big, booming voice, I thought for sure your first glimpse of him would come with a flashlight as you peered underneath the sofa."

"Or with nibbly bits of steak in my hand," he replied, and she laughed.

"Yes, and I'm holding you to that, too."

Charles leaned over for a swift kiss and picked up his bag.

"First door on the right," she said softly, feeling a flutter in her stomach. They'd made no pretense that he'd not be spending the night, but she was still a bit nervous over whether Charles would be comfortable in her small, simple flat.

"It'll be the one with the bed?" he asked playfully as he headed down the hall.

"Cheeky!" she called after him.

Charles pushed open the bedroom door and took a moment to look around before stepping inside. He smiled a bit at the utter femininity of the space itself. The living room and kitchen were bright and airy, comfortable and functional; the bedroom, however, had a different feel altogether. The walls were pale blue, with sheer curtains draped over the curtain rods. The bed ( _properly made,_ he thought with a chuckle, remembering back to having Elsie help him with the one at his own place) was front and center underneath the larger of two windows. The coverlet reminded him of something French with its old-fashioned floral pattern, and the furniture - while sparse - was beautifully designed.

He walked in, cognizant of the heavy sound of his footfalls on the hardwood floors, and deposited his bag on the armchair that Elsie had tucked into a corner. Next to the chair, he noticed a shelf, which was resplendent with a wide variety of literature; a closer glance made him wrinkle up his nose as he spied the names of authors whose works he'd never enjoyed himself.

And then his gaze was drawn to the top of the bookshelf, where there were several photographs. He turned his attention to the first photo and recognized the farm where Elsie grew up. He knew instantly that _she'd_ taken the picture; there were no people in it, but it was a lovely landscape that took in the farmhouse, the fence out front, and a dress on the line that was flapping in the breeze. There were a couple of other photos in which he recognized Beryl and Anna, and then a smaller picture in a silver frame that was of a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to Elsie … he assumed it was Becky, and made a mental note to ask.

His eyes fell upon a small dish beside Becky's photo, and his heart jumped when he saw its contents … something else to enquire about later.

"Everything all right?"

Elsie's voice startled him, but he didn't have a chance to turn before she was behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek to his back.

"Just fine," he reassured her. "You've removed your shoes, I see."

"All the better to sneak up on you," she teased.

"Shall I take mine off? I wasn't sure - everyone's different about their homes."

"If you like. I want you to be comfortable here, Charlie."

He nodded. "I was looking at the photos. You took this one, yes?" he said, picking up the photograph of the farm.

"I took them all, actually," she said, peeking around his body. "But _that_ one won me an award."

"Oh, that's lovely," he said, and he removed one of her hands from his stomach and lifted it to his lips, placing a kiss to the back of it.

"It was, rather," she said. "I just came across it recently, and it was time to put it out. That one on the end is Becky," she added, confirming his suspicion. "I took it on her birthday the month before she died."

"She was beautiful," he said softly.

"She was, wasn't she?" Elsie said, backing away from Charles. "Come on, then. You've got a dinner to make for us, I believe, and I have something to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm," she hummed. "An idea I have, and I'd like your opinion on it."

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Well, that _does_ sound intriguing. Does it have any bearing on us, specifically?"

"Actually, yes," she replied as she began pulling items from the fridge while Charles opened the steaks they'd picked up at the butcher's shop. "But not in a romantic way. It's more … a proposition. I think."

"Okay. But I think _you_ should be the one to make dinner."

She rolled her eyes.

"I mean it," he insisted. "I'll help, but you should know how to survive on more than pizza and Thai delivery." Charles reached out and hugged her with his free arm, placing a kiss to her head.

"All right," she acquiesced reluctantly. "But you may regret this."

 **oOoOoOo**

Dinner prep was more enjoyable than either of them had anticipated. Charles was happy to see that Elsie had a basic spice set (despite her never having used it - "A gift from Beryl … as a joke, I think," she'd said) and he instructed her on which ones to select and how much to put on the steaks.

"Set them aside," he told her. "Cooks better when it's not really cold."

"Seriously? Is that safe?"

Charles smiled at her. "I promise. Keeps it tender."

"Okay," she muttered. "Now what?"

Charles handed her a potato and a peeler. "Do you know how to do this?" he teased.

"Nope."

His eyebrows flew up, but she giggled. "Hand it over," she told him. "I _can_ manage to peel a few potatoes."

"Then I'll start on the veg."

Elsie peeled while Charles julienned. He got the stove fired up, heated a skillet for the steaks, and walked her through the rest ... but made sure _Elsie_ actually did most of the work.

"I'm impressed you've got a cast iron one of those," Charles said, pointing to the skillet before placing the steaks in it. The sizzle made Elsie jump, and he smiled at how she blushed, embarrassed.

"Another gift from Beryl," she mumbled, adjusting the temperature on one of the burners. "Never been used."

"I'm glad we got to christen it," he laughed.

"You'll make a proper cook out of me yet," she murmured.

After a few minutes, she flipped the steaks as Charles peered around her to check on the simmering pots. His hands landed easily upon her waist; it was familiar, and Elsie found comfort in the gesture.

"Well, I have a good deal of time ahead to try ... I hope."

Elsie nodded, turning to smile at him, and she kissed him on the chin.

"I'm starving, Charlie," she said, and her growling stomach echoed the sentiment.

He reached over and touched one of the steaks, pressing down on it with his finger.

"Two minutes, I think," he said, and she nodded happily. "They'll have to sit on the plate and rest for a few after that, and then everything will be perfect."

"Sounds good. You finish here, and I'll set the table?"

He nodded.

 **oOoOoOo**

Boots was waiting _very_ patiently by Elsie's feet throughout dinner. Finally, when the humans were finished eating, Elsie nodded to Charles and pointed to the bits of meat on the side of his plate.

He took up a small piece, leaned over the side of his chair, and held it out to the cat.

"Come here, you," he coaxed, his voice calm and soft in a way Elsie had rarely heard before; she was taken aback, and she wondered if it might be similar to the tone he'd employed when speaking to the Crawley girls when they were young.

Boots scooted over to where Charles's fingers were, sniffed briefly, and scarfed the piece of proffered steak, meowing and sitting patiently in wait of another.

"Two more," he said, feeding each in turn to the cat.

"All right, then. There aren't any left now," he said, and Boots meowed once again.

"You need to show him," Elsie explained with a smirk.

Charles looked up. "Excuse me?"

"Your hands," she clarified. "And if he jumps up on your lap, don't scream."

Charles's eyes widened as Boots did just that, sniffing at the plate and Charles's hands before jumping back down and padding away.

"A trusting fellow," he grumbled. "And perhaps a bit spoilt."

"It's possible," Elsie allowed. "But you get on well, it seems." She stood up and began clearing the dishes.

"That bodes all right for me, then?"

She smiled at him and nodded. "Pour some more wine, Charlie. I'll take these in and soak them."

He stood and went over to the sideboard, where the second bottle of wine had been breathing. He filled both glasses, took a couple of serving dishes back to the kitchen, and then he and Elsie reclaimed their seats at the table.

"So," he began, "what's this thing you wanted to discuss?"

Elsie took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and chewed the corner of her lip for a moment.

"I think Robert's walking away from CFP once this production is done," she said bluntly. "I think Cora is finished, and he's made no secret to me about the fact that when she's done, he's retiring."

Charles's eyebrows rose slowly. "I wasn't aware that he'd discussed that with anyone else."

Elsie nodded, sighing with relief. "I'm glad he discussed it with _you,_ or that would have been a rather awkward conversation starter."

His brow furrowed. "I'm not sure what this has to do with _us,_ exactly, other than the obvious unemployment implications."

Elsie sipped her wine, and then met his eyes, her gaze determined.

"I think that Mary wants to take it over," she said. "And I think we should offer her our help, as consultants, perhaps, if she does. Silent partners, perhaps." She quirked an eyebrow. "Particularly _you."_

His astonishment was evident. "Mary?" he whispered, and Elsie nodded.

"Yes. Have you heard her recently in the business meetings? The past several, at least? Not to mention her knowledge of the ins and outs of the _financials_ of it all?"

"A bit …" he hedged, thinking back.

"Remember when Willis had us all in your office, and Mary seemed to offer up a good deal of information? Why else would she have bothered to even _learn_ all that?" She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not the Mary Crawley that _I_ know."

"But -"

Elsie put a hand out to stop him. "I am well aware that you have a different opinion of the woman than I have," Elsie informed him. "And that's fine. I mean to compliment her here, Charles, not disparage. I think she's been learning as much as she can from Robert because she knows that Cora is about at the end of her rope - goodness knows it's not been easy this time around. I think you should talk to her."

"And you - _you,_ of _all_ people - want to help her?" His eyes were wide, knowing as he did how Elsie and Mary had never really gotten on.

"Well, not _precisely,"_ she admitted. "But I believe that _you_ would - that you _should -_ offer her your assistance if she asks - which she _will._ Of that, I have no doubt. You've been closer since you've been representing her, and she's always worshipped the ground you walk on. You'd be the first person she'd ask for help … perhaps the only person … and as we're a package deal now, sort of …" She shrugged.

"And your knowledge of this business - and the company itself - is vast," Charles acknowledged, and Elsie nodded in acceptance.

"Thank you," she said. "I like to think it is. As I said, Mary is clearly knowledgeable about the financial aspects, and she certainly knows the acting end of it. Production experience is something she lacks, and I'd be happy to consult as needed. I'd recommend Thomas Barrow be kept on as well, as his experience in a number of different film and television ventures is actually quite good, and he's attentive to detail."

"And they're getting on better now, too," Charles mused.

Elsie watched as he crossed his legs and sipped at the wine. She didn't press him, but let him sift through his thoughts and formulate his reply. When he began to nod slowly, she knew they were in agreement.

"As advisors, strictly," he said. "No … Silent partners, you said?"

"That's what I was thinking, yes," she said. "Investors. In a way that Mary and Robert would retain ownership, and we'd merely have a responsibility to consult as needed and invest a bit of capital to help out in the transition." She smiled warmly at Charles, appreciating so very much the sweet, gentle, _kind_ man that he was. "And to give personal support when she needs it, which I daresay has _always_ been _your_ job."

"Well," he said, standing up and taking his glass and the wine bottle with him. "I think it's a marvelous idea, and I think we're agreed enough tonight that we can leave it for now and move this conversation to the sofa."

She laughed as he waggled his eyebrows, but got up from her seat and followed him into her living room.

"Music, or a movie?" she asked.

"Music, I think," he answered. "I don't much want to be distracted by anything except _you_ for the rest of the night. I hope that's all right?"

"Oooh," she breathed, feeling a blush creep up her neck. "That sounds a little risqué, Mr. Carson."

 **oOoOoOo**

A low fire was burning in Elsie's gas fireplace, and the light from it glinted off the long-ago emptied bottle of wine and glasses that were resting on her coffee table.

Neither of them had spoken for a good, long while, having segued quite nicely from chatting and drinking to cuddling on the sofa.

Now, however, the atmosphere was becoming increasingly heated, as both Elsie and Charles felt desire threatening to burst forth between deep kisses and caresses to newly-bared skin. His sweater had been discarded ages ago, and at some point, she'd sat astride his lap and he'd managed to fully unbutton her blouse. His lips were currently traveling _very_ slowly across her collarbone as her head was tilted back, and her fingers threaded through his hair, grasping onto it now and again as she gasped with delight.

When Charles reached up underneath her blouse to unclasp her bra, however, she stopped him.

"As much as I'd like to continue this here," she whispered, swallowing hard, "I really think that, for the sake of _both_ our bodies, we should head to the bedroom."

He smirked at her. "Are you saying that you think I cannot manage things here?"

"What I'm _saying,"_ she said, leaning to her right to nibble on his earlobe, "is that my mobility is fairly limited _here_ and I think I'd be happier not shoved half against the side of this sofa."

"Fair enough," he agreed, helping her up.

She extinguished the fireplace and then took his hand lightly, tugging on it and pulling him towards the bedroom. It took a while, because after every two or three steps they were waylaid by a kiss, a squeeze, and - in one instance - a tickle followed by a squeal.

"You're rather pushy this evening, Ms. Hughes," Charles rumbled, and his deep baritone voice sent a shiver straight down Elsie's entire body.

"Is that a problem?" she asked, pushing him back so that his legs hit the bed as she made swift work of his shirt, her jeans and socks, his belt, and his trouser button. "You can take those off," she added.

"Not a problem at all," he said, surprising her by taking off _everything._ "And now, I think it's time for _this_ to come off," he added, unclasping her bra and tossing it somewhere across the room.

She pushed him back onto the bed and climbed out of her underwear before climbing astride him once again.

But Charles surprised her by sitting forward, lifting her slightly in his strong arms, and leaning her back … giving him full access to her chest.

"Ohhh," she moaned as his lips met the sensitive skin around her nipples. "That's not fair."

"I disagree," he murmured, but he let out a moan of his own as she reached down between them and began to caress him, squeezing gently and causing him to abandon his own pursuits as he felt himself harden under her touch, his head tipped back in ecstasy

"Elsie," he whispered, but she moved off of him suddenly and pushed him back onto the mattress, her lips crashing down on his for a short, passionate kiss before trailing down over his jaw and neck.

"My turn," she murmured, kissing her way down his torso.

But when she reached his stomach, he pulled her back up.

"Not that," he said quietly. "Not tonight."

Turning them both over, he looked at her with his eyes so full of love that she could do nothing but nod her agreement.

Charles reached down and pushed her legs apart a bit, lifting one up and shifting his position. When he slid into her, achingly slowly, Elsie bit down hard on her lip, but she made almost no sound.

Their movements were slow and deep, and he was taking his time. It felt amazing for both of them, and Elsie managed to maintain her hold on reality just enough to reach up and run her hands over his back, around his chest, and finally up and under his shoulders, grasping them from behind as she moved with him.

 **oOoOoOo**

Much later, and fully sated, Charles lay against the pillows on the headboard, with Elsie resting between his legs, her back to his chest. His hands were lazily stroking up and down her arms and sides, but eventually she pulled them around her body in a hug.

"Much better having room to spread out," he acknowledged, and she laughed softly.

"Told you so," she said.

Charles let his gaze travel around the room once again. "It's beautiful in here, you know. It's very … well, _you."_

"I wasn't sure you'd like it," she admitted. "It's very feminine, and the entire rest of the place is pretty bland. Frankly, I didn't think either of those things would appeal to you."

"Well, you're probably not home much except to sleep and watch television with Boots. But this room is your sanctuary," he observed.

"It _is_ my sanctuary," she agreed, and she rubbed her shoulder against him in a cuddle. "More now, I think."

"Hmm, I like that," he murmured, and his eyes continued their voyage around the room, finally landing on the small dish he'd noted before.

"You still have the earrings," he said gently.

Elsie sat forward and turned to face him. "I do," she said, curious. "You're surprised?"

"I am, rather," he admitted. "I noticed you had them on at the party at Cora and Robert's. It was why I couldn't go over and speak with you. They made it … well, too hard at the time, I think."

Elsie's forehead crumpled. "Oh, Charlie," she said, leaning over and kissing him softly on the mouth. "I'm so sorry. But, yes, I still have them. I could never have gotten rid of them."

"Even with the memory attached?" he asked, the corner of his mouth curled up in a small, sad smile.

Elsie reached up and touched his mouth with her fingertip, turning the small smile into a bigger one; he laughed, and her hand ended up cupping his cheek, her fingertips trailing over his ear as her lips moved across his jaw once again.

"Especially because of that," she said, pulling back and looking him in the eyes. "So you've not forgotten, either?"

"Oh, love," whispered, kissing her once again and drawing her closer, her head resting on his shoulder, "how could I ever forget? It was, at the precise moment I gave them to you, the best night of my life."

 **TBC - with a flashback chapter that is, hands down, my favorite chapter of the entire fic. Thanks for reading xx**


	28. May, 1980

**A/N: Flashback chapter. A bit melancholic, but not unexpected. A bit M-rated somewhere along the way.**

 **This is one of my four fave chapters in this fic (along with "Speechless," "Same Old Lang Syne," and the upcoming Chapter 30). Pardon my hideous attempt at something resembling a Scots accent. My Scots friend is super busy lately and I didn't want to bother her to help me (although I have her to thank for a name when I needed one).**

 **As always, my thanks to Chelsie fan.**

 ***Disclaimer: I share a brain with meetmeinstlouie. We really don't discuss much of our fics with each other, despite being dear friends, but similarities here to her recent update in "First Kiss" were wholly unplanned. So ignore those ... or be freaked out by them, as we were! (and go read that fic - it's amaaazing!)**

 **xxx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **What days have come to keep us far apart**_

 _ **A broken promise or a broken heart**_

 _ **Now all the bonny birds have wheeled away**_

 _ **And I need you at the dimming of the day ...**_

* * *

 _ **May, 1980**_

 _ **Argyll, Scotland**_

 _The train slowed, and Elsie reached out for Charles's hand._

" _Are you all right?" she asked, concerned._

 _He nodded firmly and squeezed back._

" _A bit nerve-racking, meeting your parents," he admitted. "But it's important to me."_

 _She smiled. "I know. That's why I invited you. That, and I didn't want to spend my birthday without you."_

 _When they came to a full stop, Charles stood and retrieved their bags while Elsie smoothed out her dress and tucked a stray hair behind her ear._

" _It's cold," she muttered, pulling her cardigan tightly around her torso and buttoning it up._

" _I'd think you'd be used to it," he said._

 _Elsie rolled her eyes. "It's colder than the train carriage," she elaborated._

 _They crossed the platform to the exit, and Elsie hailed a cab to drive them to the farm._

 _As she got in and gave the driver the address, Charles looked around at the scenery before him. It was busier than he'd thought, even though they were in the city proper. But as the car began to move, busy streets and buildings became rolling hills, mews, and rivulets. Large swaths of farmland extended out over one area, and the mountains could be seen in the distance._

" _It's gorgeous," he whispered, enchanted. "I'm not sure how you could ever have left all this behind."_

" _It's not all like this, Charlie," she said, distractedly pulling at the hem of the sweater._

 _Charles turned to her. "What is it, Els? You're so … I'm not sure, really. I feel you don't even want to_ _ **be**_ _here."_

 _She looked over at him, and for the first time, Charles noticed a tinge of unease in her eyes._

" _I don't," she whispered. "But it wasn't really up for discussion."_

" _Elsie," he asked slowly, looking deep into her eyes. "Are you_ _ **certain**_ _it's okay that I'm with you?"_

 _She reached for him, lifting one of his large hands in both of her own, and placed a firm kiss to his fingers._

" _Yes. Mam will be polite, and you and my Da will get on well. I just …" She gazed past his shoulder and out the window behind him at the passing landscape. "I don't want to be sucked into it all again, you know? This life … it's hard on families. Farming, I mean. The work is plentiful, but the end result is often a gamble. And we never had much to begin with. Part of me will always be a farm girl, but I hate that that's true. Coming back here makes me feel guilty, I suppose … that I left them behind to deal with it all while I went another way."_

" _I'm glad your father will be around," he said, smirking. "I'd like to have some time to talk to him."_

" _You'll have plenty of time for that," she replied._

" _I mean_ _ **alone**_ _, Els. If things go well, anyhow."_

 _Elsie's eyes widened as she gleaned the meaning from his words._

" _Charlie … I'm not sure if this particular trip - the very_ _ **first**_ _time you meet them - is the right time for that."_

 _He leaned over and kissed her forehead._

" _Well, we'll see how it all plays out, all right?"_

 _Elsie took a deep breath and nodded, not wanting to start a fight before they even arrived. She tucked herself up against him, her head on his shoulder._

" _My Da will love you," she said eventually. "But a life in London isn't what my Mam has always wanted for me. If she knew what your intentions were, she'd bombard you with questions about why you wouldn't consider relocating to Argyll."_

" _Well … Who's to say I wouldn't?"_

 _Elsie looked up, shocked. "Really, Charlie. Did you not even hear me? I don't_ _ **want**_ _to come back here. And you love how your life is turning out - brand new job opportunities, about to move into your own place …"_

" _With you, I hope."_

 _But the look on her face only became sad, not full of flushed passion and happiness as it had been the last time they'd discussed this very topic._

" _Perhaps," she whispered. "Eventually."_

 _He encouraged her to rest her head back on his shoulder, and he pressed his cheek to her hair._

" _What is it that you're not telling me?" he whispered. "What's holding you back?"_

 _But she just looked out at the passing countryside, aware that they'd almost arrived at home, and didn't answer him._

 _ **Home,**_ _she thought. Still … even after all these years. It used to fill her with such a sense of peace. But now that she was older, all it brought to mind was the shadow of things she could never say._

" _Don't worry about me," she murmured eventually._

 _Charles squeezed her more tightly, but she didn't notice; she was solely focused on the faint echo of Becky's sweet laughter as it tickled the back of her mind._

 **oOoOoOo**

" _Happy Birthday, my lovely lass!"_

 _Margaret Hughes rushed from the front porch to wrap Elsie in her arms, tears falling from her eyes._

" _Aye, but yer a sight fer sore eyes," she said, and Elsie hugged her back tightly._

" _Hello, Mam." She squeezed once more and kissed her mother's cheek before backing away and reaching for Charles's hand._

" _This is Charles Carson, Mam."_

 _Charles extended his right hand toward the formidable woman, smiling at how Elsie was the spitting image of her._

" _It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Hughes," he said. "You have such a lovely home."_

 _Margaret scanned the surrounding area with her eyes: paint starting to peel on the barn, fields still a bit dry and straw-covered from the winter, and the scant livestock milling about in the pen._

" _Really, Charles? D'ye think so?" She quirked an eyebrow at him._

 _Charles blushed; he'd been trying to be polite, and in some ways, the scene before him_ _ **did**_ _seem lovely to him, and he thought he'd better explain._

" _I grew up outside of London, ma'am," he said diplomatically. "Having land for miles that is only broken up by farmhouses, silos, and the occasional sheep? That's heaven, to me."_

" _Well, ye'd best come in," Margaret muttered, and she turned to head back to the house, leaving Elsie to follow behind with Charles pulling up the rear with their bags._

" _Ye'll be in there, Charles." Margaret pointed towards the spare room just after they walked in the door._

" _Really, Mam," Elsie protested, but Margaret turned a sharp eye to her daughter._

" _No buts, Elsie May. This is still my home, and ye'll be respectful under this roof, d'ye hear? Not married, are ye? No promise on the finger?" She lifted her daughter's hand and examined it quickly. "Nae … didnae think so. Rules're the same as always."_

 _Charles sensed a flaming retort about to come from Elsie, and he laid a gentle touch on her elbow as he addressed her mother._

" _This will be just fine, Mrs. Hughes," he said. "Thank you so very much for allowing me to stay here for our visit."_

 _Margaret looked at him and pursed her lips, then nodded once._

" _Edward'll be home soon," she said, turning and heading into the kitchen._

 _Elsie clapped her mouth shut, still fuming but not willing to instigate trouble within the first ten minutes of her birthday weekend. She looked at Charles and nodded, rolling her eyes._

 _Thankfully, Charles thought, Margaret didn't see_ _ **that.**_

 _He couldn't wait to meet Elsie's father._

 **oOoOoOo**

 _As it turned out, Charles and Edward Hughes got along well from the moment they met, and by the following night, things had mellowed considerably between the Hughes women as well. The foursome made it through several hands of a card game, and Margaret stood up and stretched._

" _Why don't ye go out fer a walk?" Elsie's father suggested. "We've kept ye young things cooped up in the house all night, an' it's lovely out."_

 _Elsie smiled gratefully at him as she and Charles stood. "Thank you, Da. We will."_

" _Don't be gone too long," Margaret warned. "There's still cake to be had!"_

 _Charles looked up at that. "Cake?"_

 _Even Margaret had to laugh as Elsie leaned over and patted his belly fondly. "Charles has a bit of a sweet tooth," she said unnecessarily. "We'll be back before long."_

 _She leaned over and kissed her father's cheek. "I love you, Da," she whispered._

 _He whispered back, a reply that only she could hear, "Now, ye'll be careful, lass. D'ye understan' me?"_

 _They shared a knowing look._

" _We always are, Da," she answered._

 _He smiled as Elsie took Charles's hand and all but pulled him from the house._

 **oOoOoOo**

 _They headed past the barn and out toward a small, wooded area through which ran a small stream in the summertime; given the early month of the season and the lack of rainfall as of yet, it was barely a trickle that night, but the sound was soothing, the scenery almost magical underneath the emerging stars._

" _What's that?" Charles eventually asked, pointing to a dark shape in the distance._

" _Old barn," Elsie told him. "We used to store hay in it when the farm was bigger, and farm equipment and such."_

 _Charles grabbed Elsie's hand and tugged, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her._

" _Is it ... safe?" he asked._

 _Elsie's eyes grew wide with delight, and she nodded. "Safe enough," she said, pulling on_ _ **his**_ _hand until they were running toward the old structure. When they arrived, Charles pushed Elsie up against the wall, kissing her passionately as he buried his fingers in her hair._

" _God, I've missed you," he whispered, and her hands crept underneath his sweater, pulling his shirttails out of his jeans._

" _It's only been three days, Charlie," she replied between kisses._

" _I know."_

 _Several kisses later, Elsie's hair was rather a mess, and Charles had shed the cardigan he'd been wearing and unbuttoned the shirt underneath._

" _These have to go," she said hotly, shoving aside his shirt and the tee below it and placing a hot kiss to his chest, allowing her tongue to flicker over his nipple._

" _No one will come out here, will they?" he breathed, gasping with pleasure as she nipped him gently before soothing him again with the tip of her tongue._

 _Her hands were already unfastening his jeans, and he was pulling her sweater off and dropping it to a relatively clean, grassy spot on the ground next to his own._

" _No, no one. I'm sure," she gasped._

" _Can we go inside?"_

 _Elsie stopped touching him long enough to turn and peer inside the doorway, noting that the inside of the barn was a shambles. She turned to him again and nodded, beckoning him to come impossibly closer with a curve of her index finger._

 _Charles quickly gathered their clothing and followed her into the barn, depositing the items on a chair in the corner while Elsie backed up against a wall._

 _There was only faint moonlight where they now stood, but the darkness of his eyes was unmistakable._

 _Elsie's hands were flying down the buttons on the front of her dress, undoing them all and allowing the fabric to fall fully open. She made quick work of her underwear, laying them atop where Charles had draped their other clothes, and he managed to drop his jeans and underwear down around his ankles. He made to kick off his shoes, but Elsie grabbed at his buttocks and pulled him even closer._

" _No time," she whispered, frantic, and he reached behind her to lift her body a bit; she helped by putting her hands on his shoulders and pulling herself up, which allowed her to wrap her legs around him as he held her up._

 _She moaned loudly as he entered her; it was quick and hard, both of them cognizant of how long they'd been gone and the need to not be caught. When she moaned again – quieter, but still loud enough to be overheard – Charles covered her mouth with his, plunging his tongue deep inside and mimicking the rhythm of their rocking bodies._

 _Elsie's fingernails dug into his shoulders, and her legs tightened around his body and pulled him even farther inside._

 _She was vaguely aware of the roughness of the wall against her shoulder blades as they chased their powerful climax._

 _Feeling her entire body clenching tightly around every part of his own was Charles's undoing; he yelled into her mouth, and she held him even closer until he stopped shuddering._

" _Oh, my God," she gasped, barely able to speak. "Charlie, that was …"_

 _He nodded against her forehead. "Mm-hm," he managed, and he slowly slipped out of her body; she gingerly unwrapped her legs, and he made sure she could stand before letting go of her._

" _Charlie … do you have a handkerchief or something. I need to …"_

" _Oh ... right," he replied, but he wasn't embarrassed as she'd thought he might be. He reached into his pocket and handed it to her. "Here."_

 _Elsie cleaned herself as best she could, and then folded up the cloth again and tucked it into the deep pocket of her dress._

" _Good thing we're leaving tomorrow, or Mam would be going through my laundry tonight to wash it all," she muttered, and Charles laughed loudly._

" _That would be horrible," he agreed, wiping at his brow. "Oh, Elsie, love … your hair."_

 _She reached up to feel it, pulling out the elastic, and he combed through her locks with his fingers, smoothing and gathering it all again and holding out his hand._

" _Elastic?"_

 _She deposited it in his hand with a smile, then turned so he could tie her hair up._

" _Perfect," he said, but as soon as she turned around and faced him, she started giggling._

" _Yours, not so much," she laughed, trying her best to fix his untamed locks. "That's about all I can do, Charlie."_

" _Well, let's hope for a breeze," he said. "That's always a good excuse for messy hair."_

 _They finished buttoning and adjusting their clothing, and Charles reached for Elsie's hand, pulling her toward a couple of stumps that were set a bit back from the old barn._

" _Sit for a moment," he said. "I have something for you."_

" _Do you?"_

" _Well, it_ _ **is**_ _your birthday," he smiled._

 _He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pouch made of black velvet._

" _I was almost afraid this would fall out of my pocket back there," he said. "Happy Birthday, Elsie."_

 _She took the bag, looking at it curiously. The feel of it told her the contents were large, so she knew it wasn't a ring._

" _Open it," he encouraged. "I'm impatient."_

 _Elsie did as he asked, looking at him curiously before pulling on the drawstring and sliding the contents of the pouch out into her palm._

" _Oh, Charlie .. .they're_ _ **gorgeous!"**_

 _In her palm were two large, jade earrings. The stones were teardrop in shape, but the surface of the stones was faceted, picking up on the starlight and moonlight from the nighttime sky. Golden hooks were connected to the gold setting, and as Elsie turned one over gently, she noted the entire back was a filigree, through which small bits of the jade were still visible._

" _I've never owned anything as elegant as these," she whispered, her eyes full of tears. As she looked up at him, the tears spilled over, and he reached to wipe them away with the soft pads of his hands._

" _I love you, Elsie Hughes," he whispered, and she noticed for the first time that he was on the verge of tears himself. "I intend to speak to your father tonight, when we're back at the farm. I know you understand me."_

 _She nodded. "I do, but I fear his answer will devastate you."_

" _Why?" He was truly puzzled. "We've gotten on remarkably well this weekend, he and I. I've been dating his daughter for well over two years now, and I think I've passed muster."_

 _But Elsie's mind was distracted, her eyes flickering as she gazed down at the ground._

" _There are some things you need to know," she said. "Eventually. And they may have bearing on his answer."_

" _Well, can't you tell me now?"_

 _She shook her head. "No. Not without Da's permission, and_ _ **never**_ _in front of Mam."_

" _I … All right," he said, sighing. "Well, I'm going to try anyhow."_

 **oOoOoOo**

 _The sheep were bleating at the distant end of the pen as two men – both strong, both determined – leaned their forearms against the fence. The difference in their sizes and statures wasn't terribly excessive, but the younger – who had a bit of a height advantage – felt distinctly small beside the elder._

" _I know what ye've come to ask, lad," Edward said. "But I'm afraid I need to say no … fer now, anyhow."_

 _Charles bit back a harsh reply. "She said you'd turn me down," he said instead. "She_ _ **knew.**_ _Why?"_

 _Edward sighed. "Ye're too young._ _ **She's**_ _too young; she's not quite finished her course, even."_

" _But she would be had she not fallen ill last year and needed to take a semester off." Elsie's pneumonia had been hard for all of them back at Uni, and watching her suffer and then watching her beat herself up over having to repeat the semester's course work later on had caused a few good arguments between her and Charles - she wanted to double up on work, and he wanted her to rest and recuperate._

" _I know," Edward said patiently. "And I know ye love my girl. But … "_

 _Charles drove ahead, undeterred. "Elsie said you had some … some_ _ **reason**_ _for not wanting her married and in London. She wouldn't tell me without your permission." He let the question hang._

 _The wait for a reply was so long that Charles didn't think he was going to get one._

" _Marriage is a tough business," Edward eventually said. His voice sounded to Charles as though he were miles away. "It's tough, and it can be long. Rushing into it isn't always a good idea, even if ye think ye know what ye want from the start. Sometimes … well, sometimes ... things happen," he said weakly._

" _I'm prepared for that," Charles said, but he somehow knew that he'd just lost the battle. "And so is your daughter."_

 _Edward turned then, and the brilliant blue of his eyes – identical to his daughter's – startled the younger man before him._

" _She'll turn ye down, if I ask it of her," he said quietly. "I don't wish to do that. Please, just … just wait a little while longer."_

 _The broken look in Charles's eyes was almost the older man's undoing, but he held it together, swallowing down a faint pain in his chest, and he watched as Charles nodded – once, briefly – his agreement._

" _Well," Charles whispered. "Thank you for hearing me out, anyhow."_

 _Edward extended his hand, and Charles shook it firmly._

" _I respect ye, Charles, for coming up here. Ye've respected me and my wife, and ye clearly have our Elsie wrapped tightly in yer heart. When the time is right,_ _ **she'll**_ _know it, and she'll tell ye."_

 _And, with that, he walked away, leaving a confused Charles to watch his departure._

 _Elsie found Charles outside, eventually, and sidled herself up to him, sighing sadly as his arm wrapped around her._

" _He doesn't trust me to take care of you," Charles murmured sadly. "He thinks you're too young. He thinks … he thinks we can't make a go of it."_

 _Elsie squeezed him. "I know," she said. "So let's wait, hm? And then we show him later that we_ _ **can."**_

" _Your Mam doesn't like me," he said. There was no bitterness in it, though; it was simply an astute observation. "I'm not sure why. I'd think she was afraid of my taking you way, except that you already_ _ **are**_ _away, aren't you?"_

 _Charles turned to face her, and Elsie was startled to see that his face was wet with tears._

" _Oh, Charlie," she whispered. "Don't. Please … I promise I'll talk to them both. Soon."_

" _We leave tomorrow," he reminded her, and he looked away. "He said you'd turn me down if he asked it of you."_

 _Elsie had no reply to that._

" _Would you?"_

 _Elsie looked down at the ground, scuffing her toe against the hard-packed grass and biting down on her lip._

" _Please don't ask me that, Charlie," she whispered. "I love you, so much … but he's my Da. He's not been well, and … and I just cannae bear to upset him."_

 _It was her slip back into a deeper brogue than he was used to that shocked him the most, really – a clear sign that she wasn't as far removed from her family or her past as he'd assumed._

 _He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together._

" _Okay," he said. "We'll wait."_

 _The rest of Elsie's birthday evening was difficult. While the cake was delicious, and while Charles and Elsie both oohed and aahed at the gifts from her parents – a new sweater knit by her Mam and a book of landscape photography that her Da had ordered from the States – there was a light pall over the celebrations._

 _Elsie and Charles departed the following morning, amidst no small amount of tears on the part of the Hugheses._

" _It was good to meet ye, Charles," Edward said as they shook hands one final time. "I mean that. Ye're determined; ye've got goals, and ye clearly possess a kind heart if my Elsie loves ye."_

" _I appreciate that, sir," Charles replied. "I do hope we'll meet again in the future."_

 _Edward's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "So do I."_

 **oOoOoOo**

But it never came to be.

Charles tried, but he struggled to respect Elsie's decision, couldn't understand how this independent, fierce young woman could deny him the privilege of making her his wife. He came to resent her father's influence over her, not understanding the precarious circumstances surrounding the Hugheses' marriage and family life … or knowing of the existence of Edward's other daughter.

Five months later, Elsie was called away from her last semester at University, heeding the call of a distraught Margaret.

"It's yer Da, Elsie. I need ye here, lass. Come straightaway."

"Is it his heart?"

"Aye. He's not got much time. Please … just come."

Halfway through her train ride home, Elsie's father passed away silently in his hospital bed, and his daughters' lives were changed forever.

* * *

 **Thanks for all your support. I appreciate those of you still hanging on and hope you feel your patience was rewarded. xxx**


	29. Endings and Beginnings

**A/N: Thanks to all for the lovely reviews. More notes at the end. x**

* * *

 _ **Saturday, 11 February – mid-March**_

The opening of the Derby was a rousing success. Charles and Elsie attended together - their first time in public as a couple, Elsie supposed - but the press was so focused on the revival of the iconic establishment that everyone's attention was strictly on Beryl.

About half an hour after they'd all arrived, John found Elsie in the crowd and pulled her aside.

"It's done. Just heard from Robert."

Elsie's eyes grew wide. "Who showed up?"

But John just shook his head. "I'm not sure, but I imagine it was Grigg. Can't fathom a reason for Carlisle to have gone himself. Grigg is expendable, I'm sure."

"Hm, I'm sure you're right," she nodded. "And Edith?"

"Safe and sound at home. It was a brilliant idea you had, sending Bertie to cover _this_ tonight," he said, waving his hand toward the restaurant. "I'm sure that Carlisle will be arrested in the next few days. Pretty safe to assume _his_ career is over."

"How stupid of him," Elsie said under her breath. "I mean, why? How could he throw away his life like that?"

John looked decidedly uncomfortable, but he didn't say anything.

Elsie glanced across the room to where Bertie stood interviewing Beryl's assistant manager. "He seems to be rather a natural at this, doesn't he? He's very personable. Did you know he's related to an old Hollywood family?"

"I think I remember Cora mentioning that once," John mused. "Some uncle of his or something?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "And how is Ethel working out? Has Anna said anything?"

The smile on John's face instantly put Elsie at ease. "She's working out marvelously," he said. "It was a bit of a rough start with her and Gwen, but once Anna talked to them about dividing up the work differently, it cleared right up. Thank you so much for helping out with that. I can't tell you what a difference it made in Anna's entire outlook on this bed rest thing."

Elsie felt Charles's approach just before his hand landed at the small of her back.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but they're ready for us to go in and be seated."

"Enjoy yourselves," John said. "I"m going to go home and check on my wife."

"Give her a hug from us," Elsie told him. "May I still stop by in the morning?"

"That'll be fine," John said, and he lifted his chin in Charles's direction. "You'd better go, before Mr. Carson here doesn't get fed."

"Let's go, then, Mr. Carson," she said with a laugh, turning and grabbing his arm.

They were among the last through the doors, and Elsie squeezed Beryl's hand and placed a kiss to her cheek.

"Congratulations, my friend," she whispered.

"You, too," Beryl smiled, tossing a glance at Charles.

 **oOoOoOo**

The next morning, Elsie arrived at Anna and John's house with a basket full of things she hoped would keep Anna mildly entertained during the remainder of her bed rest: there were novels, a couple of those adult coloring books and some new pencils, a journal, and several movies.

"Need some help?"

Elsie looked up to see John descending the front steps.

"Actually, there's a bag in the front seat with some food," she said, and John laughed.

"Oh, the irony," he quipped.

Elsie shot him a scowl and he laughed. "Kidding!" he cried, putting his hands up in mock defense. "Just kidding!"

"Actually, Beryl and Charles _are_ the ones who cooked," she admitted. "It's all freezer-ready and labeled, they said."

He peered into the bag and noticed his favorite casserole on top. "Excellent!"

Elsie followed him up the steps and he opened the door for her before following her into the kitchen.

"I'll unpack those, and you head on upstairs to see the patient."

But Elsie paused. "How is she, really?"

In John's eyes was a fondness for the woman before him. "You always were perceptive," he acknowledged.

"And you're worried about something," she noted; he nodded in admission.

"You know the stuff Edith got in the mail?"

"Yes …" Elsie was confused. "No offense, but I never was sure how many details _you_ knew."

John laughed harshly. "No, I'm sure you weren't. Robert told no one about my involvement, bless him. He didn't feel it pertinent. But now …" He glanced toward the staircase that led to their bedroom. "It doesn't feel right not to come clean. And I'm worried."

Elsie sat on one of the seats at the breakfast bar, opposite John, who was leaning against the counter.

"I don't understand, John. Your 'involvement'?"

"I know." He took a deep breath. "You know Anna and I have both worked for the Crawleys for years, albeit in different jobs."

She nodded.

"And our time with them goes back to when they were mostly living in England. I've been Robert's attorney forever, and I happened to meet Anna one day at his house, when she was lingering and chatting with Cora and I'd come by to drop off some papers."

Elsie smiled. "That I _do_ know."

"Yes," he said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "What you probably don't know is that I was ... married. At that time, I mean. Separated, but married nonetheless."

"Well, I'm hardly in a position to chide you about that," she said softly.

"No, but that's not what I'm getting at. Vera - my first wife - found out about Anna. She saw us out together once, and she was furious. Wanted me back, despite the fact we'd been separated for over a year. She was livid when I refused, and she decided to get revenge on me."

Elsie's brow scrunched up. "How?"

"By attempting to attack the Crawleys. I think her rationale was that I think highly enough of them that I'd have done anything to keep their name from being raked through the mud. She knew Anna was good friends with Mary, and so she had Mary followed."

Elsie's eyes grew wide. "You mean …"

John nodded slowly. "Yes. I think Vera was responsible for the photo that ended up in Carlisle's hands … the one that Edith eventually received. The photo _no one_ was talking about, I mean," he said pointedly, and Elsie nodded.

"Have you told anyone about this?"

"I called Willis after discussing it with Robert. Vera was … well, she was pretty hateful."

"Wait … You keep saying _was."_

Elsie watched as myriad expressions flitted across John's face before he answered.

"She's dead," he said eventually. "Suicide. And so there's no proof of anything I'm saying, unless Carlisle comes clean." He looked down at his hands, which were gripping the countertop tightly. "Willis will need to get it out of him, of course. But it explains how Carlisle got that particular picture. No one else way back then would have known about Mary and Pamuk. Even Anna said it was the best kept secret in decades. They'd only been together a week when he died. Only someone who was tailing one of them would ever have found out, and that photo of them was … well, they weren't in a public place."

"Yes, I understand." Elsie reached across the counter and patted his hand. "Please don't worry, John. This ex-wife of yours tried, but she clearly didn't harm your relationship with Anna. In fact, if I know Anna at all, I'd say that her standing by your side through it all _helped_ you more than anything."

He nodded, clearly emotional. "It did. But I felt I had to come clean. I feel like I've had some part in all of this … this disaster that's fallen upon the family."

"It's not your fault," Elsie counseled. "And you'd do better to put it behind you. Leave it to Willis; he knows what he's doing."

John finally smiled - a small smile, to be sure, but it was an improvement.

"Thanks."

 **oOoOoOo**

The next month was busy for everyone. Elsie was heavily involved in the post-filming edits, and she pulled Charles and Joseph in to consult on a couple of them, asking for their input on which parts of the scenery and which props would be better focal points for certain segments.

It fell to Charles to conduct the interviews with the historians, meaning he was actually spending a good deal of time at the studios filming. The way the project was laid out, interviews about aspects of turn-of-the-century manor life were discussed in interviews with historians, and then those segments that had been filmed as reenactments were inserted in the appropriate spots. Charles and Robert had come up with a list of topics to cover, and Charles had invited prospective experts and handled all of the interviews himself. It was a project that took about two weeks total, but during those two weeks, everyone involved spent fourteen hours a day working at the studio.

Elsie and Charles had decided ahead of time to spend most nights apart during those weeks. They ended up together only a couple of times - both of them at hers, because her flat was closer to the studios than his - but giving into their passions was necessarily kept to quick bursts of activity as the need for sleep was too important at that point; it wouldn't have done for Charles to be yawning during an interview, or for Elsie to be botching something on the production end. The timeline was too tight, given that the ultimate goal was to release _The Granthams_ at the upcoming Toronto Film Festival in September. It would be a make-or-break event for CFP, and not even their own personal desires were important enough to botch it for everyone.

Filming officially wrapped on March sixteenth. That night, Cora and Robert hosted another huge bash at their house. This time, though, Elsie and Charlie showed up together.

"You're wearing them," he said quietly as he'd reached out and fingered one of her jade earrings.

"I am. They make me happy again. That, and they go with the dress."

"Which is gorgeous," he growled playfully, pulling her body close.

And it was. The dresses was fitted and long, floral in pattern, the greens of which were only highlighted by the earrings.

"It's not too …" Elsie hesitated. "Oh, I don't know … _young?"_

Charles only laughed.

They socialized, danced, held hands, and drank. As usual, no one threw a party like Cora did. Elsie was pleased to see Edith and Bertie there, and she reassured herself after speaking with the middle Crawley daughter that the young woman had suffered no lasting anxieties or trauma from the entire blackmail ordeal.

"I'm just glad I never had to write the article," she said, and Elsie nodded her agreement.

The party wrapped around one in the morning, and Robert insisted on allowing one of his drivers to chauffeur Charles and Elsie home.

"Mine?" Elsie asked, and Charles nodded.

"I prefer it," he said lowly, his lips brushing her ear. "Bigger bed."

The hour was late, but Elsie reminded Charles once they got to the front door that they had nowhere to be the next morning. The moment she turned the knob to bolt the door behind them, Charles's hands were on her.

"Look who's still wide awake," she whispered, and his lips crashed down on the back of her neck as he managed a soft, "Mm-hm."

Elsie held herself up with her palms against the door as Charles slowly unzipped the back of her dress before pulling her back to slide it down her arms and onto the floor.

She returned the favor, making quick work of his suit jacket, tie, and trousers.

The next several minutes were a blur of slow, painstaking, attentive activity that produced a trail of underclothing and shoes leading from the front door to the foot of the bed.

"You're gorgeous," Charles breathed, taking in Elsie's naked form before him. He ran his hands up and down her sides, then over her shoulders, landing his palms on her breasts and smiling proudly as her head fell back with a moan.

"It's been so long since we've been able to take our time," she said, and she sat back on the bed as Charles began kissing his way down her body.

"Well, for some bizarre reason, I'm really _not_ tired," he managed, his voice coming from somewhere near her abdomen.

"You will be when I'm done with you," she replied.

"Promise?"

Reaching down and threading her fingers through his thick hair, she whispered, "If you keep that up? Most definitely."

"Well, then," he replied, trailing the tip of his tongue across the top of her thigh while simultaneously pushing her legs apart, "let's see how I do."

By the time they got to sleep, the sun was beginning to rise. Charlie's last thought before sleep claimed him, his beautiful Elsie already dozing in his arms, was how ironic it was that they were acting like a couple of new, young Hollywood actors - partying, drinking, having sex, and staying up all night - just at the point in his life when he was looking forward to leaving the Hollywood life behind.

 **oOoOoOo**

Two weeks later, Anna Bates gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.

"Elizabeth Anne," John proudly announced, handing her to Elsie. "Seven pounds exactly, and everything is perfect. But Anna was only thirty five weeks along, and so they want to keep us here a couple of extra days, just in case."

Elsie's heart caught in her chest as she took the baby in her arms. She felt Charles wrap his own arms around her.

 _This is what it could have been like,_ she thought, and she swallowed hard as she tried to keep her tears at bay, choosing instead to press a series of kisses to Elizabeth's downy head.

"Don't," Charles murmured in her ear. "I can hear those thoughts of yours, Elsie. What's done is done. Let's just enjoy this little one as much as we can."

She tilted her head sideways, resting her temple against his lips, and nodded slowly, putting the last lingering regrets behind her for good.

 **oOoOoOo**

Charles called Robert two weeks after Elizabeth was born, asking for a meeting. Robert had confided in him about retiring, and the possibility of Mary taking over the company became more likely with each passing day. At their first available opportunity, Robert, Mary, Charles ,and Elsie met for dinner.

"I'm surprised you chose this one," Elsie said as they were on the way to the Bel-Air.

Charles just reached over and clasped her hand in his as he drove.

When the four were seated and the wine brought and poured, Charles got right down to business.

"We have a proposition for you," he said to Mary. "Elsie and I. I'd like for you to hear us out and then offer some initial thoughts."

"All right," she said hesitantly. "I presume this has to do with my taking over the company."

"It does," Elsie said.

For the next twenty minutes, Charles laid out the plan he and Elsie had been discussing over the past several weeks. They'd talked about finances and their own careers, about what they wanted out of the next phase of their lives, and about what they could feasibly offer.

In the end, the offer they gave Mary was to become investors in CFP. Each would buy into the company with an equal amount for a ten-percent share of ownership. Mary and Robert had already decided that she'd be assuming seventy-five percent of the company, with Robert and Cora maintaining the remaining twenty-five; therefore, Elsie and Charles's involvement would still allow Mary a controlling share. In exchange, Charles and Elsie would each receive their ten percent, along with a seat each on the Board of Directors.

"You'll need people with their experience," Robert advised his eldest daughter. "You've got the acting component down, but your knowledge of the production and design end of things is lacking."

"Well, that's put me in my place," Mary said.

"Look," Charles said firmly. "We don't have to offer you anything, except that the last thing Elsie _or_ I want to see happen is for CFP - which has been in your family for generations - to go to the highest bidder, who will most likely turn it into the exact _opposite_ of what it's always been. If your goal is to maintain the quality of production that this company has always had, then you do, in fact, need some experts in the field on your board."

"You must know that we have the best interests of the company at heart," Elsie added. "And, quite frankly, this would cost you less money at the outset than simply keeping me on staff for all productions."

Mary looked at her curiously. "I can see why Charles wants to help me; he's always had my back. But why you?"

Elsie smiled. "Fair question," she acknowledged, and she reached for Charles's hand. "Simply put, we want to be semi-retired. Together." She smiled when, our of the corner of her eye, she saw Charles nodding. "We want to invest in a solid company with an excellent reputation, and are willing to offer ourselves and our vast experience in the world of film-making in exchange for the opportunity to live a bit more of our lives _outside_ of that world. Sixteen-hour days for eight months at a time? Much like your parents, Mary, we are simply getting on. This enables us to keep our feet in the door, to help you out, and to see an eventual return on our investment."

"And what if it all goes to hell in a handcart when I take over?" Mary asked in a whisper.

Charles tilted his head to catch her downcast gaze.

"It won't," he said kindly. "Because we have faith in you. We'll be here, along with your parents, should you stumble. But you're ready for this, Mary. You've been brought up in this world, and the time is right for you to take the helm."

Robert looked at his daughter. "It's a good offer, Mary. You should accept."

She thought about it as the waiter came by to take away some unused dishes.

"All right," she said when he'd gone, and there was a contented smile about her face. "Let's do it."

She held her hand out to Charles, and he shook it firmly.

"Let's," he echoed, and he nodded approvingly at his beloved goddaughter.

* * *

 **A/N: There we have it. There will be two more chapters to come. This ties up the blackmail bits; I didn't want to write an entire chapter about Carlisle and the police and didn't think you'd want to read one, either. I'll leave it to you to fill in some gaps.**

 **Another shout-out to Chelsie fan for her amazing work, particularly on this chapter.**

 **Chapter 30 is a rather lengthy one, and will deal with the screening of** _ **The Granthams.**_ **So, folks, we're heading back to Toronto for the Toronto International Film Festival. Many thanks to a special reviewer for her "insider info" into film production, documentary type productions, and the festival scene (I'm not sure she wants me to name her here, so I shall not do so). Was a bit nerve-racking to realize that a** _ **producer**_ **was reading this fic LOL - but it's been lovely and I feel I've learned quite a bit. Huge thanks. xx**


	30. The Right Woman

**A/N: This is the last MAIN chapter of this fic. It's another of my favorite chapters. There WILL be an Epilogue in a couple of days, after which this story will be marked "complete."**

 **I am so very grateful to everyone who has read, reviewed, and reblogged this fic. I've lost some faithful readers and reviewers along the way, but have picked up so many lovely new ones. Chatting through reviews is the most rewarding thing about the writing, for me, so I thank you.**

 **Special acknowledgements:  
1\. So grateful to Chelsie fan and susiestarbux, without whom this story wouldn't read as well as I hope it has - or even exist at all.  
2\. Shout-out to Hogwarts Duo - I hope the true explanation for what's been bothering you sits well at the end of it all. ****xxx  
** **3\. And a little nod to meetmeinstlouie, one of my dear "Borg brain" writer friends, who put so many details into her last update of "First Kiss" that are like some of the things in this story (particularly Ch 28 and this one). It floored me when I read it, and it floored HER when she read THIS story. This happens ALL THE TIME, and while we discuss fic regularly, we really aren't copying each other. I swear. If you haven't read "First Kiss," please do so. It's lovely young Chelsie wonderfulness.**

 **Here we go. Please leave a note of review and let me know what you think. I really hope you enjoy it.**

 **Love you all,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **I see you on the street and in company**_

 _ **Why don't you come and ease your mind with me?**_

 _ **I'm living for the night we steal away**_

 _ **I need you at the dimming of the day.**_

 _ **September**_

The Toronto Film Festival began on the seventh of September. It was a ten-day event, and despite Violet's refusal to make the journey, Robert had ensured that the entire cast and crew would be in attendance. Cora had even insisted that a nanny be hired to assist Anna and John. It had been a difficult decision for Anna, who hadn't even wanted to go to the festival at all, but Elsie had quietly encouraged her to accept the help and enjoy the opportunity.

"Who knows?" Elsie had said. "Maybe you and John could manage a dinner together … _alone."_

"I don't know," Anna had replied, but Elsie could see that the seed of that idea had taken root almost immediately, and she'd smiled to herself.

Charles had booked the Penthouse Suite at the same hotel where they'd stayed previously. He'd meant it as a surprise for Elsie; he knew she had expected to stay closer to the festivities with the rest of the Crawleys. But Charles had simply asked her to trust him with booking the arrangements for their trip, and she'd agreed to do so.

"Charlie!"

She squealed in the elevator when he inserted his key card for the top floor. He just turned and smiled, completely thrilled that he'd managed to pull off the first of what he hoped would be a couple of surprises before the week was out.

"I thought we deserved to live a little," he said, smiling.

"But this must be costing Robert a fortune!" she exclaimed.

Charles pulled her to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of her head, taking a moment to enjoy the soft fragrance of her hair. "Don't you worry about Robert," he murmured, smiling as the strands tickled him. "I've taken care of it."

She pulled away quickly, shocked. "Charles!"

His hand found hers, and he caressed it softly as the elevator stopped. "Are you arguing with me, Ms. Hughes?"

His smirk did her in, and she just shook her head. "I suppose not. But you hardly need to woo me, Mr. Carson. I think we've determined that I'm already smitten with you."

Elsie reveled in the wolfish grin that appeared on his face, and she laughed all the way back to the room … until Charles reached out for her and she tumbled into his warm and welcoming embrace, and then all thoughts of laughter and wooing were forgotten for quite some time as unbridled passion and warm familiarity with one another's bodies overtook them once again.

 **oOoOoOo**

Elsie and Charles spent most of their time at the festival attending as many of the screenings as possible. For his part, Charles wanted to check out the competition that _The Granthams_ was up against in the documentary category. Elsie, however, was looking ahead, and she and Mary divvied up the Indie list and made sure they each saw as many as possible … meaning that Charles was dragged to see several things he'd assumed he'd dislike - some of which he'd honestly enjoyed.

 _Although that was likely the company I was in,_ he thought happily.

The week had been filled with a bit of drama as well - particularly one evening when an unsuspecting Elsie stumbled upon Alice Neal in the ladies' room during a break between events.

"Hello, Alice," she said kindly. "Are you enjoying the festival?"

Alice took a break from reapplying her lipstick and nodded, her eyes finding Elsie's in the mirror. "I am, I think. Busy! But I suppose that's the nature of the job."

"Mm," Elsie hummed, reaching over for a towel to dry her hands.

"I know I'm lucky to be here," Alice added quietly, and Elsie noted that the woman looked a bit ashamed.

 _And rightly so,_ she thought.

"Your film is up for judging tomorrow, correct?" Elsie asked, not wanting to discuss the other topic _at all._

"Yes." Alice capped her lipstick and returned it to her handbag. "I hear you and Charles are retiring from the business," she ventured.

Elsie tilted her head. "My, my. Rumors do travel fast, don't they?"

Alice raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

"Well," Elsie said, really struggling by this point to continue to make conversation, "I must be getting back. Enjoy the rest of the festival, Alice. Best of luck."

"You, too."

And, with that, Elsie turned her back on Alice Neal … for good.

She was halfway back to Charles when she realized that she never really answered Alice's question.

 _Oh well._

 **oOoOoOo**

If there were one day during the entirety of the festival that Elsie would have thought Robert might lose his mind completely, it was the seventh day.

Robert mentioned at lunch - to Elsie and Charles, but quietly enough that neither Thomas, Joseph, nor Phyllis would hear - that he'd received a text from Bertie Pelham, asking to meet privately with him as soon as he returned to L.A.

"Why not here?" Charles asked.

"He's gone back," Robert said. "Yesterday. Edith wanted to stay to cover the rest of the festival, and to be on hand when we win," he added confidently. "Bertie returned to be sure things are going smoothly at the office while she's away."

"Well," Elsie said, smiling. "Sounds great, if you ask me. Which I realize you _haven't,_ and you don't sound like it's a great thing at all, really."

"He wants to marry her, I'm sure of it," Robert replied. "And soon, I gather."

"Oh, my," Elsie whispered, nodding instantly. "Of course."

Charles just looked at her, completely mystified.

"She's pregnant, isn't she?" Elsie asked quietly, and Charles sputtered on the water he'd just sipped.

But it was Robert who blanched the most, and he nodded. "How did you know? Although I don't even know why I'm _asking,_ because you seem to know everything."

"I wondered last week, actually," Elsie said. "Just a hunch, but it fits now. And good for Bertie - for _both_ of them."

"But on the heels of Sybil and Tom's engagement, it's a bit much!" Robert whispered painfully.

Elsie reached over and squeezed his hand.

"You're gaining two sons-in-law and at least one grandchild in less than a year," she said calmly. "I'd say it's perfect … and the perfect distraction for you and Cora as you relinquish control of the company to Mary."

Robert sighed deeply. "You're right, I suppose," he said after a minute. "At least we'll be able to enjoy it all. Who'd have thought so much romance would be in the air this year, eh?" He reached for his glass and took a large swig of the Scotch inside of it.

Elsie looked over at Charles, who was looking back at her with a soppy, lovesick grin on his face, and she laughed.

It drew the attention of Joseph Molesley, who looked up quickly to see what was the matter.

When Elsie glanced back at their end of the table, she noticed Phyllis's hand wrapped tightly in Joseph's, the two of them resting on his knee.

"Not me," she replied to Robert. "But it's all worked out right in the end."

 **oOoOoOo**

Alice left her film's after-party early on the festival's last night. She was, in a word, tired. Tired of smiling for endless cameras, tired of schmoozing directors and producers, tired of giving on-the-spot interviews for her film - particularly since they'd not won this year despite having been the front-runner in their category.

And, she thought as she walked lazily back to the hotel, she might just be tired of her life.

 _Maybe Charles has it right,_ she thought bitterly. _Maybe it's time to retire. No one is hiring sixty-plus-year-olds all that much, anyhow._

As she walked down the sidewalk, she listened to the click of her heels against the pavement. Her feet were killing her, and if the weather had been warmer she thought she just might have ditched the stilettos altogether.

A gentle breeze lifted her hair - a caress, cool and refreshing, and it made something in her heart catch. She knew, with sharp, sudden clarity, what it was that had come over her, what this despondent melancholy was that was so very unlike her.

 _Loneliness._

She was _lonely._ She laughed to herself at that, the sound of it harsh and startling to a young man passing on the opposite side of the street. Alice Neal had never been _lonely_ in all her life, not really; she'd had a rather privileged childhood, and despite a natural shyness in her youth, she'd had quite a few friends. She'd catapulted into being a drama star at University, and while she'd retained a quiet demeanor, she knew she'd found her niche on the stage.

And then she'd met Charles, and he'd swept her off her feet. Looking back, she could hardly remember a time when he wasn't part of her life. Kind, dependable Charlie. They'd had so much passion in those early days, during the weeks and months when she'd helped bring him out of the depths of his own despair. He'd lost the love of his life, he'd said - she remembered the words falling from his mouth as though he'd just spoken them moments ago instead of decades past. She remembered the hurt in his voice, and the commitment she'd made to herself to get him through it, to show him that she could be everything he needed, and that he didn't have to pine away for some girl who'd clearly not cared enough about him to even let him know why she'd disappeared from his life.

Her heart ached now, remembering everything she'd gained when she married Charles. She'd not only won the affection of a husband who'd treated her like a queen, but also a family who had done their best to love her. The pain and loneliness she now felt had a great deal to do with not only Charles, but also for the family she knew she'd lost through what she freely admitted were despicable actions. She'd treated them all reprehensibly for the sake of a passionate affair with a man who'd conned her into thinking he'd give her career that one final, late-blooming boost that she'd so desperately craved. She had turned on Robert, on Cora - Charles's family, for all intents and purposes.

But worst of all, she'd turned on the girls, the beautiful trio whom she'd never referred to as anything but her nieces. She knew now they'd likely never speak to her again ... and she knew that she deserved it.

As she continued walking along aimlessly, her toes numb from the pressure of the heels mixed with the slight chill in the air, Alice realized that she could pinpoint the _exact_ moment when her marriage to Charles had shifted from passionate and dedicated to simply routine. It had been on her forty-fifth birthday, when they'd been out to dinner with Robert and Cora and a few other friends from the industry. Charles had insisted on the fanciest restaurant, the best wines - nothing too good for his wife, he'd said. Except that Alice had caught some kind of food poisoning that night, had been down for two days because of it, and had banished Charles to the spare room for fear of his not being able to sleep.

She hadn't missed his body lying next to hers. She'd swear that, if she asked him now, he hadn't missed hers much, either. She felt it was a certainty, because it had seemed too easy later on, when they'd shifted to separate bedrooms on a permanent basis.

And then the following years had become ones in which they had gone through the motions of marriage without the passion of youth. They'd discussed that shift a few times, both feeling that it was simply the turn a marriage took after a while - one became complacent, comfortable, and dependable. Her career had finally taken off, while he'd been spending more time in London and Italy. Then she'd moved to LA and had begun working with a new agent, and so nightly talks over drinks in their sitting room were over; instead, they'd begun to catch up on the events of their day via phone conversations every other night.

And then twice a week.

By the time Charles had come to LA, Alice had known it was over. She'd felt like a failure, but she was at least adult enough to admit that she wasn't in love with Charles like she had been when she was twenty-six.

Seeing him with Elsie, though … that _hurt_ in a way Alice had not expected. Because despite the woman's age and not-quite-perfect appearance, there was clearly passion between Elsie and Charlie. And Alice knew immediately that _their_ love and passion wouldn't dissipate quite so easily. She knew what he had with Elsie would be helped along by their maturity, by a greater appreciation for the need to make the most of the years ahead.

 _And, perhaps, because she's the one he's belonged with all along,_ she thought.

Alice had originally suspected that Elsie might be a disappointment to Charles, that the image he had in his mind of his 'Elsie' would be based on something too perfect, something molded of strictly the best of his memories … in short, she thought that the _actual_ woman might not live up to his expectations. But when she'd seen them together at his apartment, she'd seen how a simple touch of Elsie's fingers could calm Charles in an instant, how Elsie was able to visibly steady him in a way that Alice never could. She'd known it was well and truly over then, and she'd wished them well.

The soft lapping sound of the water made her realize she'd reached the boardwalk. She stopped walking and gazed out over the lake …

A look to her right made her stumble as her eyes fell upon something wholly unexpected. She righted herself by grasping the railing, leaning her weight on her left foot as she shook the painful feeling out of her right ankle.

A scene was being played out before her; the two actors were heartbreakingly familiar, and the event itself was most ironic, as though it had been conjured up from her recent musings and placed before her to reinforce her thoughts. She stared openly, knowing the couple would never take notice of her presence; they'd be lucky if they noticed _anything_ about their surroundings, so focused were they on one another.

As Alice watched from afar, from her vantage point at the other end of the boardwalk by the lake, her ex-husband got down very carefully on one knee, supporting his weight by holding onto the railing, and proposed to the _right_ woman - the one he had been destined to be with from the very start.

It was only when the cool breeze touched her face that Alice realized she was crying.

After a moment, when she turned to walk away and find a taxi to take her to her hotel, she realized that her regret in that final moment was perhaps the most _sincere_ emotion she'd felt in years.

 **oOoOoOo**

 _ **Twenty minutes prior ...**_

"Fancy a walk?" Charles murmured in Elsie's ear.

She looked around at the party before them, then back to his face. He seemed … well, she wasn't sure exactly.

 _Perhaps he's just tired._

"Sure. Fresh air might do us both good, I think. I just need my coat from the coat check and then we can go. Would you mind finding Robert and telling him we're heading out?"

His kiss to her cheek made her smile. "Not at all," he replied. "I'll see you out front."

Elsie was concerned as she retrieved her jacket. She managed to thank the woman and place a tip in the jar on the counter, but she wasn't really focused on what she was doing at all. Charles had been acting oddly since earlier that night, when it had been announced that _The Granthams_ had won in the Documentary category. It was what they'd all hoped and prayed for: the nod that CFP needed to reestablish itself as dominant in the field of quality small films that could succeed on an international level. It would set Mary up well to take over as head of the company, it would ensure that Robert and Cora would be retiring on a positive note, and it would mean an instant return on the investment Elsie and Charles had each made a few months prior.

 _And yet he seems … well, hardly ecstatic._

Charles had been standing by Elsie's side when Robert had given a brief speech; they'd heard all of the applause and they'd been toasted at the after-party … and Charles had been stiff and stoic for almost the entire time.

His hand on her back startled her.

"Off with the fairies?" he asked.

"I suppose so." She handed him her coat, and he slipped it over her shoulders effortlessly. "Let's get out of here."

He nodded, and she noted that he seemed as grateful as she was for the opportunity to get away by themselves.

They walked along for a while, not really talking much, until Elsie laughed lightly.

"This walk reminds me of the _last_ time we were in Toronto," she said softly. "Although everything is reminding me of that this week."

"Me, too." He looked around them. "The boardwalk is that way, isn't it?"

"It is." She tugged affectionately on his arm, hugging it to her body a bit. "The scene of the crime, as it were."

"The crime?"

She looked up at his bushy eyebrows, raised in confusion. "When you stole my heart back for good, Charlie. With a brush of your lips and a passion in your eyes."

He couldn't help but smile, and he felt his body relax for the first time in days.

"Indeed. Well, perhaps we can recreate that little scene?"

"Oh, and will you be inviting me back to your room again, then?"

"I believe I might," he chuckled.

The breeze picked up a bit, and Elsie smiled as they turned the corner and the boardwalk and lake came into view. The city lights were reflecting off of the water, and due to the ridiculously late hour, the place was nearly deserted.

They'd taken about ten steps onto the boardwalk when Charles stopped suddenly.

Elsie stumbled a bit, bumping into him, and he reached out to steady her before she could fall.

And then she looked up into his eyes, felt a tremble pass through his body, and suddenly, sure as anything she'd ever felt before … she _knew._

 **oOoOoOo**

Charles caught her as she nearly fell, and somehow the jolt it gave his heart when she stumbled served to calm him completely. It was as if fate had sent him a sign … she was in his arms at last, and he fully intended to keep her there.

"Charles?"

Her inquisitive voice came to him through a fog, and he shook his head a bit and smiled. A cursory glance up and down the boardwalk showed him one or two lone figures, but he barely registered any presence but Elsie's.

He tugged at his waistcoat, a nervous habit that she'd pointed out on more than one occasion, and stood a bit taller. He needed a deep breath … and then another … and he was certain from the look in her eyes that she knew what was coming.

"I love you, Elsie Hughes," he said, taking her hand and lifting it, placing their palms together and smiling when she laced their fingers and squeezed.

"I know you do. And I love you - more than I think you even _know,"_ she replied tearfully, and she pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed the back of his fingers.

"It's perfect," she added after a few seconds, "being here with you again."

It sounded like some kind of encouragement, and he took the last step; dropping her hand, he reached into the pocket of his jacket, then forced himself down on one knee, holding on to the railing for a bit of support.

She chuckled, and he laughed softly.

"Bear with an old man, will you?" he asked, and she bit down on her lips, clamping her mouth shut tightly as she nodded tearfully.

"I love you more than _you_ know, too," Charles said, looking up at her watery, brilliant blue eyes. "I think I always have. No … I _know_ I always have. And I've gone through this so many times in my mind, but now I find my brain completely devoid of anything romantic or poetic. I want to marry you, Elsie. I want to spend the rest of our lives together. I'm hoping you're willing to be stuck with an old, retired, washed up historian … because I can assure you that he so very much wishes to be stuck with _you."_

She was nodding halfway through his speech, and he cracked open the ring box with his finger and thumb. She glanced at it briefly, noting fleetingly that the band of the ring was silver and that there was a single diamond set in the center, and she snatched the box out of his hand (lest it fall into the lake), pulled him up, and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, pressing her lips to his.

Their kiss was long, and when they broke apart, Charles had to laugh.

"That kind of kiss, and you've not even properly examined the ring," he teased. "I rather like that about you."

"The ring doesn't matter," she said. "It's hardly a make-or-break detail here, although I'm certain it's lovely."

He puzzled her by laughing even _more._ "Oh, but do look at it," he said. "It's important to me. Humor me."

Elsie cracked open the box, which had shut in her tight grasp earlier.

What rested inside was … well, it wasn't what she expected. The band was white gold, rather thin, and - as she'd seen before - a diamond solitaire shone out from the center, elevated in a simple four-prong setting.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "And …" She wasn't sure how to say it without sounding horrible.

"And it's old," he helped.

She looked up at his eyes, waiting for him to explain.

"It was my mother's ring, you see," he said quietly.

Elsie's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Shouldn't Alice have had that?" she asked. "I mean … Oh, that sounded wrong, but I don't understand …"

Charles leaned down and kissed her again, then took the ring box from her hand and looked thoughtfully at the ring itself, lifting it out and pocketing the box.

"I took this with me when we went to your family's farm," he said quietly. "My mum had given it to me before that, meaning for me to pass it along to my future wife. I took it along in this very box," he said, patting his pocket, "but I never got to give it to you then."

"Oh, Charlie," she whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek.

"And when that didn't work out … Well, I couldn't just give it to Alice. It wasn't meant for _her,_ you see. It was always meant to be _yours._ It wouldn't have been right."

"And you've had it all this time?" she asked incredulously. "Didn't that … well, didn't it raise suspicions with Alice? I'd assume she'd have been jealous - perhaps even furious."

"Oh, it wasn't ever in our home," he clarified. "She never knew about it. It was in a safe deposit box in London until very recently."

"Charlie! Oh, my God. You had it _shipped_ here? Are you mad?"

"No, I didn't have it shipped ..." He paused, but she remained confused. The wind blew, fluttering the hair at her temples, and he pulled her a bit closer.

"Remember that time just before I was in hospital?" he asked. "When I didn't phone or text, and you were rather cross with me?"

She understood immediately; it ordinarily would have made _no sense,_ but she had learned long ago to never underestimate Charles Carson and his attention to detail.

"You ... flew ... to London ... to get ... this?"

He nodded. "I did."

"But, Charlie," she whispered, still in shock. "That's ... mad!"

"It may have been, in hindsight," he acknowledged with a smile. "And I truly was sorry to have disappeared on you. But I was too afraid I'd give something away, and that you'd either be horribly upset that I'd taken such a trip and not mentioned it, or that you'd get the _reason_ out of me and be offended that my mind was already working on a proposal."

"Because that wasn't long after we- "

He placed a thumb over her lips, effectively shushing her as his fingertips ended up in the hair over her ear. "Got back together," he finished, smiling and kissing her forehead. "Yes, I know. But, you see, I had this _hope_ that you'd say yes when I finally decided to ask. Which, I'll point out, is here, and now … and you haven't. So I'm a bit _un_ sure of how to proceed."

There was a twinkle in his eye, and as he caressed her cheek softly with his thumb, she fell in love with him all over again.

"Yes," she gasped, nodding furiously "Yes. Oh, Charlie, I would very much - as you so eloquently put it - like to be stuck with you for the rest of my life."

Charles slid the ring onto Elsie's finger and then grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up, vaguely aware of the applause from a small crowd that had gathered at the other end of the bridge. He spun her around in his arms, and she was peppering kisses all over his face, her own arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

He put her back down and then kissed the back of her trembling hand.

 _This is just like a scene from a movie,_ he thought.

It was the most 'Hollywood' Charles had ever felt in his entire life.

 _The End_

* * *

 **Epilogue coming soon. x**


	31. Epilogue

_**In the mountains across the borders ...**_

 _ **I lose myself in you again.**_

 _"Here Comes the Rapture," Sophie Ellis-Bextor_

* * *

 _ **Epilogue**_

Elsie sighed happily, albeit a bit exhaustedly, as she made the now-familiar right-hand turn up the long, winding drive. As her destination came into view, she slowed the car a bit and smiled.

She parked the car in its spot and climbed out gingerly. Five hours in the car, with only one stop, had taken a toll on her body. As she walked, she stretched her back and then shook some sensation back into her pinkie finger, which had fallen asleep about twenty minutes before she'd arrived.

Elsie didn't go inside, choosing instead to walk around to the patio behind the house, figuring everything that she'd brought along could sit for a few minutes longer. She stopped halfway there, however, to take in the incredible view: a panorama of red mountains in the distance, the setting sun shining off of them and deepening their color as its light added to the dark tones of the stone itself, with wispy clouds hanging in the midst. The red was broken only by a scattering of trees; there wasn't a single other house visible from her vantage point.

Having taken her fill of the vista, she turned the final corner onto the patio, smiling at the _new_ scene before her - a much less majestic view, to be sure, but one that filled her heart with even more wonder than the previous one.

Charles had fallen asleep on his half of their double patio lounge, his fingers laced over a book that had fallen sprawled atop his stomach. His reading glasses rested just above the tip of his nose, and he was softly snoring … with two smaller, furrier creatures snoring at his feet.

Knowing he'd kill her for it later, Elsie quietly slipped her phone from her pocket and snapped a picture, fulling intending to make it her home screen later on that evening.

The click of the camera startled the cats, and Boots was the first to wake and spot her; he jumped down and padded over to her feet, and she crouched down to give him a bit of a cuddle.

"Hello, love," she said softly, and he purred and licked her hand before heading into the house in search of water.

Only when Boots had disappeared did Robbie come forward to greet her. He was the new addition: a petite, black cat with a bit of white mixed into his fur. He'd been a gift from Robert and Cora, hence his name (although Elsie would always insist he'd been named for Robert _Burns_ and not Robert _Crawley)_ , and both Charles and Elsie had fallen in love with him immediately.

"Go on," she encouraged after scratching Robbie behind the ears. "I'll watch over your Da now."

He meandered around the patio, sniffing here and there, before joining Boots inside the house.

Elsie put her phone on the side table and gently climbed onto the lounge. She slipped the book from underneath Charles's hands, smiling at the sight of the platinum band that now graced his left ring finger.

"Els?"

"I'm sorry," she murmured, leaning over and kissing his temple. "I didn't mean to wake you."

He extended his arm, and she tucked herself underneath it and up against his chest, wrapping him in a tight half-hug.

"You must be exhausted yourself," he said in a gravelly voice. He kissed her hair, and she nodded.

"I am, but it was worth it not to spend the night alone." She poked him playfully and added, "And _you're_ the one who disappeared this morning."

"Ah," he agreed, yawning. "I did. But you came looking for me."

She picked herself up enough to be able to look him in the eyes. "As promised," she said.

His chuckle rumbled in his chest, and she could feel it throughout her body.

"Arizona," he said with a sigh, sitting up a bit to look out over the patio wall at the setting sun. "Who'd have ever thought we'd _really_ end up retiring here?"

"Not me," she replied sleepily. "Now lie back down so I can cuddle you."

"My pleasure, Mrs. Carson," he said, and as they rolled into one another's embrace, they both drifted off to sleep.

 **oOoOoOo**

They woke about an hour later and agreed that a late dinner would be better than no dinner at all. Elsie had become rather adept at preparing simple meals over the last few months, and so she got something going while Charles - who had been unpacking the boxes from the move all day - took a shower.

He re-emerged just as Elsie was setting their plates on the table, and his arms wrapped around her waist.

"You smell amazing," she commented, turning to face him. "And you owe me a proper kiss hello, I might add."

"So I do," he said, leaning in.

A small mewl sounded from somewhere inside of her as his lips met and moved against her own, his tongue gently grazing her lip in promise of things to come.

"Welcome home," he murmured when they broke apart, and she swallowed with a bit of difficulty.

"Thank you," she managed, taking her seat.

They discussed his progress with the unpacking over dinner, highlighting the things that remained for the following couple of days. Elsie updated Charles on her meeting with Mary and the new projects that CFP would be starting in the next month, and he offered opinions about some of them. The cats jumped up on an empty chair next to Charles at one point in an attempt to swipe something off of his plate. Elsie shooed them away with a laugh.

"Wedding photos came in today," he said eventually, and the comment was met with a delighted gasp from his wife.

"You never said until _now!?"_

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he clarified, the amusement evident in his eyes. "They're … well, they're _spectacular,_ actually. I'm glad we decided on mostly candids. Wait until you see the ones from after the ceremony."

Their wedding had been a very small, intimate affair, with only their closest friends and the Crawleys in attendance. Robert and Cora had served as best man and matron of honor, a nod to the long-standing friendships between them all. It had been the easiest wedding decision Charles and Elsie had made; given that the Crawleys had seen them through the entirety of their lives together - both phases - it had seemed only fitting.

"I'm so happy you like them," Elsie said, reaching to squeeze his hand. "You're pickier than I am, darling." Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "They took one of me with Elizabeth, didn't they?"

"That's my favorite, actually," he said, "aside from the one where I'm kissing you. You're looking down on her with such amazing _love_ written all over your face, Els." His eyes misted, and she squeezed his fingers a bit more firmly, nodding.

"I can believe it," she said. "I adore that girl, Charlie."

"Me, too."

His voice was wistful, but they'd both had that conversation already, and each had shed enough tears over the missed opportunity to have their own family.

They didn't speak much after that.

When they finished eating, Charles took his turn in the kitchen while Elsie went to soak in a hot bath.

She emerged from the bath feeling refreshed and relaxed and found Charles sifting through the photos.

But Charles felt his heart thump hard when looked up to see her - his beautiful wife, completely nude, approaching him slowly.

"Well," he said, placing the photos on the nightstand and scooting to sit at the edge of the bed, and he stretched his arms out to welcome her into a light embrace.

"Well," she mimicked before grasping his face in her hands and placing a deep, hot kiss to his mouth.

His hands caressed up and down her body, from her thighs to her shoulders and back again.

"Welcome home, love," he said as he fell back onto the bed, pulling her down by his side.

She propped herself up on her elbow as her hand dipped below the waistband of his pajama pants.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be," she said.

"Forever?" he teased, gasping as she squeezed him gently.

"Forever," she confirmed.

His eyes met hers, and he smiled.

"Finally."

* * *

 _ **Thank you, thank you, thank you. xxx**_


End file.
